Not Over Yet
by seditionary
Summary: Can Bruce Wayne find a way to save the Joker from himself? Can a man with no rules capture the heart of Gotham's hero? And will the Joker's time in Arkham save him...or break him? Batman/Joker. Mature content.
1. Trying New Things

**DISCLAIMER: This is based on characters from Chris Nolan's Dark Knight. I own none of the characters and make no money from this story.**

**A/N: This is kind of AU. I started out with this as a one-shot but a couple of reviews persuaded me to continue; so, a few future chapters will be devoted to developing the story. I'd love feedback!!**

Following a bruising fistfight, Batman trailed the Joker to his current lair, a cheap, sleazy hotel room high above the streets of Gotham. They were traveling via rooftops and fire escapes; the Joker was aware of his pursuer and could have eluded him with a little extra effort, but he no longer cared. He was tired. Life held no further promises for the criminal; there was nothing to look forward to.

Batman confronted his prey on the narrow ledge outside the window of the Joker's room. Their eyes locked, both studies in grim determination. The Joker turned at the last possible moment and made a move to jump off the steep building.

Batman managed to grab the collar of his overcoat in a lightening fast gesture; he locked his other arm into the open window frame for support. Tediously, he pulled the struggling madman into the relative safety of his room.

"Why'd ya hafta do that, Bats?" the Joker asked, panting, in disgust. "I was ready to go…and it was so nice to have an audience." He swiped at a trickle of blood draining from the side of his mouth. Batman had gotten a few good shots in before the Joker took flight….

"I won't be a party to your self-destruction…you're going to face justice, I'm here to see to that," Batman promised.

The Joker laughed maniacally. "You'll see me in hell before I let you take me in, Batman…" The killer pulled a dagger out of his trousers and lunged at his opponent.

Batman caught his arm and forced him back against a blank wall. The two men struggled mightily, but finally, Batman's greater strength overcame the Joker's iron will, and the knife dropped to the floor. They continued the match, however, two bodies pressed closer than imaginably possible, a struggle for control…sweating and shaking, the Joker tried to free himself from Batman's grasp, but before he could either make a final strength-draining effort, or even to give in and give up, he was stunned to find the other man's strong jaw working hard against his mouth in a passionate kiss.

The Joker froze for a moment, his mind shifting into overdrive. _What the hell…?_ Then he adapted, as he always did…and returned the deep, exploratory kiss. Two sets of hands began moving over bodies that were complete opposites—one a willowy, cat-like creature, made for stealth and sneakiness; the other, a solid, muscular tank of a man, built for power and fortitude.

Batman broke the clench, and took the Joker's head roughly in his hands.

"Damn you, you freak…what are you doing to me?" he asked, his voice raw and raspy.

"Uh…I don't think I was _trying_ to do anything to you, aside from plunging a knife into your belly. _You _seem to want to do things to _me_, however…is that right?" the Joker asked with amusement, tinged with newfound lust. "Because, I'm into that…if you are."

Batman summoned some strength from deep within himself, and pulled away, holding his hands in the air as if he had just come into contact with some contaminant.

"NO! No. It's just…back in the interrogation room…I felt something…I didn't understand it, and I still don't, but…"

"Oh, Batsy, deep down, you kinda like me, don't ya?" the Joker asked with mock sympathy. "Well, I like you, too. Now, why don't you take your little mask off, and let's see what happens…" The Joker reached for Batman's face, and his mask. Batman slapped his hand away.

"Forget it. The last thing I need is to have you advertising my true identity to the world...."

"Oh, come on, Bats! I wouldn't do that…for one thing, no one would believe me. I'm the Clown Prince of Crime, remember? They'll just think I'm trying to cause trouble…and anyway, your secret will always be safe with me…you know I'm telling the truth, because, actually…I've know for some time…who you really are…_Bruce_." The name came as a delicate whisper of truth.

Batman gasped, stricken. How had he discovered…? He realized the Joker was right. If he'd known all along and never disclosed his secret, what did he have to fear now?

"Ok…I guess it doesn't matter any more…" Bruce Wayne opened the clasp that secured his mask and cowl and slipped them off. The Joker smiled in appreciative approval.

"Oh, much better! Not that there isn't a certain…appeal to being taken by a man in a mask, but, no, I like this better, much better." The Joker eased away from Bruce and headed to his creaky, iron-framed hotel bed.

He began undressing, slipping out of his heavy overcoat, his jacket, his tie and vest…Bruce watched apprehensively.

"W-wait, what do you think you're doing?" he asked disapprovingly.

"You gonna fuck me while I'm fully dressed? Now, that's kinky…." The Joker turned to look at Bruce, grinning.

"I'm not gonna do…_that_…at all, you miserable pervert." Bruce asserted.

"Yeah? Well, you sure seemed interested a few minutes ago…what are you, a coward?" the Joker taunted.

"Coward! That's bullshit. What do you think I'm afraid of?"

"I don't know, your true nature? What you really want?" The Joker continued to take off clothing—there was a lot—but finally got down to his black under shorts. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared balefully at Bruce.

"Come on, Bruce…you have so many rules…try breaking one, for once…it'll be fuuun…" the Joker's voice took on a teasing, sing-song tone.

Bruce stood, undecided. The Joker was so oddly appealing to him…his lank hair falling across his brow, his slim frame, so recently struggling in his arms…it was easy to imagine a different kind of struggle.

"Ok…I guess you're right…I shouldn't be afraid to try something new…" Bruce mused out loud.

"Good. Now, take off that ridiculous outfit and come here." The Joker didn't have all day to romance the guy…he still had suicide on his mind.

Bruce did as he was told, and when he was down to his shorts, the Joker slipped out of his underwear and lay down on his back, parting his legs invitingly.

"Ok, Bruce. Don't worry, one little round in the sack with me isn't going to turn you queer," the Joker assured him.

"Yeah, hopefully, it'll have the opposite effect…" said Bruce, grimly.

The Joker laughed, and yanked the last shred of defense between them down to his knees.

Bruce knelt between the Joker's thighs, and started to try to figure out what exactly he needed to do, when the Joker held his hand against Bruce's chest in a "wait a minute" gesture. He reached into the drawer of the nightstand and brought out a tube of lubricant.

"I like it rough, but I'm not a masochist," he explained simply to Bruce, as he slathered a generous portion of the gel onto Bruce's erection. "Ok, go ahead," he directed, spreading his legs accommodatingly. Bruce was amazed at the matter-of-fact attitude of his new bed partner.

He tried to focus, finding the Joker's tight entrance, and gave a tentative push. "Oh, come on, Bruce, do it like you mean it!" urged the Joker, in equal parts frustration and amusement. "_Fuck_ me! Hard…" his bright brown eyes were boring into the bigger man's and Bruce realized whatever tenderness he might feel toward the lustful creature below him was wasted and unnecessary.

Bruce gave a considerably more direct effort, pushing himself deep into the Joker's warm, eager body, and was rewarded by an equally strong upward thrust from the Joker's hips. It only took a few exploratory thrusts for Bruce to find the proper angle and to establish a mutually pleasurable pace, and soon the ancient bedsprings were singing a creaky song, while the rusty iron headboard was enthusiastically drumming a fast, powerful rhythm into the thin hotel room wall, a debauched symphony of lust and desire.

The Joker lay under his former nemesis, deeply enjoying not only the sex, which was very satisfying, but the delicious irony of the situation. Here he was, giving apparent pleasure to the very man who most wanted to lock him away forever….

The Joker liked this position…he liked it a lot. Legs wrapped around his lover, being penetrated so hard and so deeply that each thrust was a powerful stroke building to his release, the angle perfect for stimulating his prostate.

It was known as a passive position, but the Joker didn't feel passive; he was thrusting back with equal enthusiasm, using his arms to grasp his lover tightly, using the nails of his hands to dig into soft, sweaty skin, using his teeth to bite hard into his shoulder, causing Bruce to gasp in pleasure. He liked it that Bruce took a moment every so often to kiss him deeply as he continued to rock into his body, making them one.

As for Bruce, pumping away on top, he tried to avoid looking down into the face of the man he had just so recently been intent on brutally subduing. The sight of his depraved lover made him feel shame; but as he couldn't help but look, he became aware of a keen excitement that started in the depths of his groin and spread like heat to his very fingertips and toes. He liked the Joker's dark eyes on him, his mouth working in an unsuccessful attempt to stop the inappropriate laughter that wanted to escape as Bruce's deep strokes occasionally hurt, but mostly pleasured him.

The Joker took his own erection into his hand and began to give himself additional stimulation; Bruce looked down and watched for a moment, fascinated. He looked at the Joker's face, his eyes now closed, a study in concentration as he worked toward orgasm, and tried to imagine what he looked like without the ugly greasepaint. His features were attractive and Bruce suspected he might even be handsome. Just then, the Joker cried out in release, and his semen shot out onto his own body. The thick, creamy liquid was instantly smeared between them as Bruce lowered himself onto him again.

"Bruce…that was _so_ damn _good_…come on, babe, it's _your_ turn…" The Joker's encouragement wasn't entirely selfless, his legs were beginning to ache from being held apart for so long, and his entrance was beginning to feel the effects of Bruce's powerful ongoing friction; he wondered if Bruce was close, or if he needed to ask him to take a break for more lube and maybe a change of position….

The Joker was grateful when Bruce gave a few extra-hard, fast strokes and tensed up in readiness; Bruce groaned from deep within himself, and ejaculated into the heat of the Joker's lithe body, straining to finish as deep within his lover's tight channel as possible. When he was done, he slowly pulled out and rolled over, next to the Joker. The two young men lay quietly, neither touching the other now, neither knowing what to say.

Finally, the Joke intoned "Well, Bruce, I think you accomplished what you set out to do, rules-wise. Plus, I won't be able to walk, or even sit down, for a few days…that should help you get the jump on me…" he looked over at Bruce to see if he would laugh, and he was rewarded with a brief smile and an amazed shake of the head.

"I really do hate you, you know…" Bruce confided, affectionately.

"I know." The Joker slipped over closer to him and wrapped his arms around him. "I hear visiting hours at Arkham go until 8:00 pm—will you come and see me?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah…I guess I will," said Bruce, reluctantly. "How else will I get to break more rules?"

The Joker smiled and closed his eyes. He was still tired. But maybe there was something to look forward to, after all.


	2. A Visit to Arkham

**A/N: Ok, I've had a number of readers for this story, thank you all. Special thank you to MissWickedWitch for the review!! I have decided to continue, so please let me know if you like…reviews are deeply appreciated.**

Bruce Wayne arrived at the hotel bar in time to join up with some business associates for cocktails. He was dressed in a beautifully tailored Italian suit; the figure he cut was far superior to that of any of the men in the upscale night spot, even the younger ones—a fact not lost on a single one of the women in the place.

He accepted a drink from one of his new acquaintances, and began the tedious process of making light conversation with these men—conversation which would reveal much more than they meant to, under the expert manipulation of a high-powered businessman like Bruce Wayne.

Bruce was intent on making a positive connection with men from a munitions firm; as a representative of Wayne Enterprises, he saw a huge potential for future dealings with them; but as Batman, he had serious concerns about the ethics behind some of their recent work….

In time, he was able to extract phone numbers and a date for a future meeting with the key players; he skillfully managed to shake hands and bid farewell as quickly as possible; he was definitely ready to get out of there by now…

However, his escape was thwarted by the arrival of a tall, voluptuous blonde. She sashayed up to him; her deep green eyes set off by long dark lashes. Her face featured full red lips and perfect alabaster skin; her body, long legs, full hips and a slender waist leading the eye to an even fuller cleavage…a woman with a confident stride, an unashamed flirt….

"Mr. Wayne, I've been waiting all evening for your cronies to give me a chance with you…." Her voice was a rich, steamy cocktail of sex and promises.

Bruce eyed her up and down; she was just his type, just the kind of distraction a billionaire could knuckle down to, and knuckle under _with_…he graced her with a charming smile, and the scent of her light, delicate perfume wafted into his senses…he felt her cool hand on his, fingertips lightly stroking him. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment; then Bruce said simply….

"I'm sorry, my dear, but I have a date." With that, Bruce gracefully made his exit and had the valet parking attendant bring his Lamborghini around; he tipped him well, hopped in, and took off for the sordid side of town. Bruce was heading to Arkham.

***

The director of Arkham Asylum had had several conversations with Bruce Wayne; under normal circumstances, an inmate like the Joker would be denied visitors for any reason, at least until he was stabilized enough to join the general population; that was still difficult to imagine. They'd barely been able to subdue him long enough to fit him for a straight jacket.

But Mr. Wayne had some very interesting things to say about grants and research fellowships; Arkham had fallen on hard times, following the unexplained deaths of several inmates over the course of the last few years, and its reputation was in shreds. Any help of a monetary nature was welcome, and to have an influential man like Bruce Wayne show an interest in improving the hospital's image was…exciting. It was his business if he wanted to rubberneck on their dealings with a creature like the Joker.

Bruce was escorted by a male nurse and an armed security guard; they got into a creaky elevator that took them deep into the bowels of the old facility; down to the most secure floor, the floor that was reserved for only the most hardcore cases, psychotics and sociopaths that posed such an imminent threat to everyone around them that they were basically treated like animals.

Bruce felt his breath hitch as they got off the elevator; the surroundings were beyond grim, with dingy gray concrete walls, harsh artificial light, merciless white linoleum floors with drain holes every so many feet. The smell of harsh disinfectant only served to mask nastier, more human odors….

The cells—they couldn't be called "rooms"—were cold steel, solid except for a vent that allowed a tray to be inserted. Bruce couldn't tell if all, or any, of them were occupied; he only heard noises coming from a few. He followed his guides down the long hallway to the last cell; the nurse punched in a code on the number lock, and he and the security guard turned to Bruce. The nurse kept his hand securely on the door and then spoke up.

"Mr. Wayne—the patient is, uh, _highly_ unpredictable. Very unstable. He's been secured, but…I would keep my distance. We'll be right out here if you should need us, but…"

He and the security guard glanced at each other apprehensively before continuing.

"Are you _sure_ you want to do this?"

"Yes, yes, I wouldn't be here if I wasn't," Bruce answered impatiently, then added:

"I'll be fine. I'm very interested in this…patient's condition, and his treatment. I'll let you know if I need any help."

Bruce motioned for them to step aside and he opened the door slowly, half expecting something like a vicious tiger to attack him. Nothing. He went ahead and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

It was a padded cell with not a single piece of moveable furniture, nothing but an iron cot bolted to the floor with a thin mattress and flat pillow. There was a single, dim light bulb in the high ceiling, affording little comfort and no warmth. Bruce thought it was rather chilly in there….

The Joker sat in the corner, his head slumped against the padded wall. The straight jacket was tightly secured; he appeared to be unconscious, but after a moment Bruce heard a low voice saying "Bruce…_do_ come in…welcome to my humble abode." Then, a deep, grim laugh spilled from the Joker's throat.

Bruce went over to him and knelt in front of him. The Joker moved his head into an upright position and licked his dry lips. They hadn't bothered to clean him up; his greasepaint still clung to his skin in some places, but was mostly smeared thin, the colors mixed together, and it was gone entirely in many places. The Joker's eyes were dilated, and he seemed to have trouble focusing on Bruce's face.

Bruce noticed bruising and swelling under one eye and around his mouth. These were recent abuses, not what Batman had doled out to him two weeks ago. The Joker's hair was greasy and matted with blood; Bruce reached out his hand and gently pushed a lank strand away from his face. The Joker turned his face to follow the touch, then lay back against the wall.

"Sorry I couldn't present a better appearance for you, Brucie…still want to fuck me?" The Joker was smiling teasingly now, offering a seductively raised eyebrow in a sick mockery of romance. The wretched truth was that, yes, Bruce did still want to fuck him…although, in the name of decency, he didn't think taking a semi-conscious man in a straight jacket was entirely ethical. Instead, he took a seat on the floor next to the Joker, and put his arm around him, pulling him close.

"I never meant for you to be treated like this…" he said softly.

The Joker knit his brows and scrunched up his mouth painfully; then asked,

"What did you _think_ was going to happen to me?"

"You're supposed to receive psychological and medical treatment…not just be locked away like an animal."

"Hmm…well, Arkham's not exactly on the cutting edge of either one of those things…" The Joker tiredly let his head drop onto Bruce's shoulder. He had really thought he'd be dead by now. And he really didn't expect Bruce to come to see him…

"It doesn't matter anyway…I'll be here for the rest of my life, what difference does it make if I'm down here or up there?" He raised his eyes and gestured to indicate the upper floors, reserved for the less troublesome patients.

"It matters to me. I'm going to make sure you're treated properly. I promise you that." Bruce put his hand under the Joker's chin and gently raised his battered face; he carefully kissed him, trying not to hurt him where he had been beaten, and then sat back and smiled at him.

The Joker looked at him in surprise; he returned an awkward smile.

"You'd save yourself a lot of trouble, and the taxpayers a lot of money, if you'd just smuggle me in some cyanide…I hear it's _quick_…" said the Joker, only half kidding.

"No way. You've kept your part of the bargain—you're keeping my identity a secret, and you cooperated when I took you in—and I'm going to keep mine. I'm going to help you get your life back."

"Yeah, well, good luck with that…."

The Joker turned back to the wall and in a few moments, Bruce realized he had passed into an unconscious state. He placed one hand on the Joker's forehead, checking for fever—he didn't look well—then rose to his feet, knocked on the locked door, and made his exit.


	3. Rules

**A/N: Let me know if you like the direction we're taking….reviews deeply appreciated!**

Bruce Wayne arranged an appointment with Arkham's director, a woman named Angela Newsome. She was an older woman with a great deal of experience in dealing with public institutions; Arkham was about to be the death of her, however.

"Mr. Wayne, so good to see you again. Please, sit down," she greeted the billionaire warmly.

"Thank you, Dr. Newsome. Do you know why I'm here?"

"I would imagine it has to do with our…challenging new patient, the Joker, is that right?"

"Yes, exactly. I paid a visit to him last evening, and I was appalled. Surely treating a patient in such an inhuman manner is not the level of care you _intend_ to provide, is it?"

"Mr. Wayne…I understand how it looks to an outsider, but believe me when I say that, given the limited resources we have, and the…very difficult condition of the patient, we're truly doing the best we can. I'm sorry you feel we're falling short, but there's only so much we can do. The man is very dangerous and we have to consider the safety of our staff members."

"You haven't even bothered to clean him up! All you've done is keep him doped up enough so that he's no trouble for your ham-fisted guards…he's obviously been abused, there's _no_ excuse for that." Bruce's eyes were hard and penetrating.

The director looked out the window and was quiet for a moment. The man was right, but trying to control what went on when no supervisors were on the floor was next to impossible….

"What would you suggest we do, Mr. Wayne?"

"I want to pay for a specialist to treat the Joker. "

"A specialist?"

"Yes, a doctor that has had great success in dealing with psychopathic and sociopathic conditions. I'll arrange to have him flown in, pay for his residency, and if things improve with the patient, Arkham will get all the credit. If not, no harm done. In return, you make sure the Joker is given adequate medical care, decent food, a shower, a regular room, not that horrible cell in the basement…"

"The man almost tore apart one of our orderlies on the first day he was here," the doctor intoned warily.

"I'll talk to him. He trusts me. I believe he can be controlled with a less stupefying drug regimen; I know he's difficult, but…I have every confidence that if we all work together, we can get his treatment under way. Think of the press this hospital would get if the Joker were to become a productive member of society someday."

"That's very hard to imagine, Mr. Wayne," said the director sardonically. "But…go talk to him. If you can get some degree of cooperation out of him, I'll do everything I can to facilitate his treatment with this specialist of yours. But, I'm warning you…he's smart. I wouldn't believe a thing that he says…."

"I'm aware of the Joker's intelligence and crafty ways. Let me see what I can do."

***

Entering the Joker's cell for the second time in two days, Bruce was all the more determined to get him some help. The Joker was lying on his cot, unconscious. He looked too still, almost dead; Bruce hastily sat on the edge of the bed and checked for signs of life. He was breathing, shallowly. Bruce put his hand on his shoulder and gently shook him awake.

He arose with a start and a cry like a wounded animal; Bruce realized that had it not been for the straight jacket, the man would have attacked him blindly. It took the Joker a moment to realize who was with him. He slumped back against the wall and a grin finally stole across his face.

"Aw, you came to see me again! You're spoiling me, Bruce—next thing you know you'll be bringing me muffin baskets and paperback books. I just _can't wait_…"

"I came to tell you that you need to stop this raving homicidal behavior immediately. It's doing you no good, and I'm not going to be able to help you if you keep it up."

"I didn't ask you for help, Bruce, well, other than the cyanide, which you seem to be _unwilling_ to procure for me. As for my 'behavior', look, I don't intend to make these bastards' lives any easier if I can help it…"

"I'm telling you, _stop it." _Bruce's eyes bored into the Joker's, who stared evenly for a long while and finally broke his gaze.

"Ok…I guess you want me to "cooperate" when they're jamming electrodes onto my temples…."

"I just don't want you to attack people. Yes, cooperate. Go along with whatever they say, and you'll be in a better situation almost immediately. I'm seeing to it, but you have to behave or I can't do a thing."

The Joker looked at Bruce with an aggrieved expression.

"Why are you doing this? What the hell do you care about me? One little fuck and you're in _love?_ Jeeze, you _musta _been horny…"

"I'm _not _in love with you!! Don't be an idiot. It's just, what good does all my money do me if I can't help people? Face it, Joker, you _need_ help. You weren't always like this, were you? I intend to get you what you need to live a relatively normal life."

The Joker raised high an eyebrow. "I wasn't always _crazy_, no. But, if my past life was what you're calling normal, I don't want any part of it, believe me. At least I live by my own rules now, Bruce…which means, _no rules_. I do what I _want_…" the Joker almost hissed the words.

"Really? You want to lie around in a padded cell with that fashion statement you're sporting there?" Bruce indicated the straight jacket.

"I think not," he continued. "And as long as you're too dangerous to be allowed to stay conscious, nothing will change. So, _stop_ it. _Now._ I mean it." Bruce's face was close to the Joker's; he again powerfully held his gaze until the Joker dropped his eyes in defeat.

"Ok, Bruce," he said with a sigh. "If it means that much to ya…I'll be a good little psychopath. But I'm doing it for you, not me, understand?"

"That's fine. Thank you." Bruce stood to leave.

"Aren't you gonna kiss me goodbye?" the Joker asked, feigning hurt feelings.

Bruce stooped and took his scarred face in his hands, and gave him a deep, hard kiss. A twitch of desire caught him, which wasn't lost on the Joker. He smiled cynically.

"I think you'd get over this noble crusade to save me if you'd just pull my pants down and fuck me again. Get it outta yer system and you could go on to far more worthwhile philanthropic pursuits…"

"When you're better, we'll see. For now, I'm doing what I want to, Joker. Just like you used to…I think you and I have different ideas of 'breaking the rules'." Bruce returned his smile and departed.


	4. Therapy

**A/N: I guess I haven't set up the timeline on this. It's before TDK. I would really love more reviews—pretty please?? ; ) Let me know if you like or don't…suggestions? Thanks!**

**Seditionary**

Bruce Wayne met Rachel Dawes for dinner; now that she was involved with Harvey Dent, they hardly saw each other anymore, although they managed to maintain their close friendship through phone calls and emails.

"So, Bruce, I understand you're taking an interest in the Joker's case. What in the world has gotten into you? That man is a monster, everyone knows he should have been given the death penalty. I mean, people have died…."

"Rachel…the Joker is a very sick individual. If Arkham can regain some of what it's lost over the last few years by successfully treating him, that will be a huge benefit for the entire city of Gotham. And, no matter what your opinion of him may be, he _is_ a human being. He deserves competent psychiatric care, at least, and, apparently, he's not going to get it without some outside intervention."

"But, Bruce, what if it doesn't work? Aren't you afraid your good name will be dragged through the dirt along with Arkham's? I just think you're taking a really big risk, and I hate to see that…"

"I appreciate your concern, Rachel, but I know what I'm doing. You know, giving money to big charitable organizations is important, but sometimes doing good comes down to one person, one situation…I feel this is something I need to do. I'm sorry if I'm not explaining myself very well…"

"Well…I can't say I really understand. But, you've obviously thought it over very seriously, so I guess I'll just keep my mouth shut."

"I'll believe _that _when I see it," laughed Bruce.

***

Bruce's next visit to see the Joker would take place in his new room on one of the upper floors. He was once again led to the area by a security officer, but their route was through a corridor brightened by the sun streaming through high, barred windows; the walls were a light shade of blue and there was a day room, where patients could spend a few hours playing board games or watching TV among other human beings.

The guard opened the door, and Bruce stepped in. The Joker was slumped with his back to the wall, splay-legged, on his bed, arms listlessly at his sides, chin on his chest, like a discarded rag doll. He sat up slightly and cocked his head at Bruce's entrance; then he pursed his scarred lips, and shot a narrow-eyed glare at Bruce.

For the first time, Bruce was seeing him as a "normal" man, without makeup or purple suit. Without straight jacket or restraints. Wearing orange hospital scrubs, blondish-brown hair clean, with only a faint hint of green dye, bruises faded, he was actually quite handsome. Except for the severe scarring. And the manic look in his laser eyes….

And, there was no mistaking the voice.

"Bruce Wayne, you fucking prick. What have you goddamn done to me, you cock-sucking son-of-a-bitch _bastard_?" The malevolent tone came straight from hell.

"Nice to see you, too, Joker. And, you're welcome."

"Oh, I'm supposed to _thank _you?" He laughed, a short, bitter chuckle. "For _what?_ They won't let me use my make up, they put me in these piece-of-shit polyester rags, make me sit around with those goddamn _re-_tards in the day room, and want me to make fucking clay _ashtrays_…fucking hell, I don't even smoke. You miserable, _fucking _bastard."

"You're supposed to be getting better."

"I'll tell you what'd make me better, a goddamn good _fuck'd _make _me _better, but where've _you_ been? Huh? You've left me here to rot with the cheery nurses and the motherfucking German Nazi doctor…goddamn it, the shit they're pumping in my veins, I can't even get _pissed _any more…."

"You seem to be doing a pretty good job of it right now…"

"Yeah, time for another dose, I imagine….Christ, Bruce, can't you get me out of here? I just want to go home."

His rage expended, he slumped back again, his tone turned to a pathetic whine.

"You know, I didn't mean for them to _under_-medicate you, either…" said Bruce, dryly.

He took a seat next to the Joker on his bed and pulled him into his arms. The man had no substance on his bones. He lay childishly stiff, refusing to accept Bruce's overture, but finally turned to him and burrowed into him.

"Why haven't you been to see me for so long?" he whined.

"It's only been a week. I talked to the doctor, and he recommended giving you time to get acclimated. I'm sorry it was so long…" He rubbed the younger man's back comfortingly.

"Ok…I forgive you." He was suddenly all smiles and grinned up at Bruce. Bruce was amazed at how…_innocent_…his smile was. Oh, boy, this was going to be a wild ride….

The Joker slipped to the floor, kneeling between Bruce's legs. He started to unzip Bruce's trousers, but Bruce caught his hands.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked firmly.

"Aw, come on, Bruce, let's play. Don't be such a tight-ass." He went back to Bruce's fly.

Bruce gave in; he supposed the Joker was as much in control of his own mind as he ever was and if he wanted to get friendly, well…ok.

The blow job was incredible, and Bruce moaned as he neared orgasm, but the Joker pulled away, effectively putting a stop to Bruce's release.

"What the...what're you doing?"

"Ha ha, I'm not the selfless type, Brucie. Time for some mutual satisfaction…"

He took down his pants and made Bruce move so he could lie down on the bed.

"Come on, Bruce, you know what I like." He smiled wickedly at him and pulled him on top of himself.

Ten minutes later, both men were finished with their frantic coupling, left panting and contentedly clinging to each other on the narrow asylum bed, and some sense of peace came over the Joker.

_Medication, shock therapy, talk therapy, art therapy, fuck it all, give me some goddamn good _fuck _therapy,_ he thought, snickering to himself as Bruce absently ran his hand through his curly blonde hair. The Joker looked up at his lover and gave him a deep, wicked kiss that sent new spasms of desire through Bruce's nervous system. But he knew it was almost time for him to leave, and he definitely didn't want them to be discovered in this condition.

"Get up, get dressed. I've got to go."

The Joker looked at him sulkily. "Yeah, me too…"

"You stay here."

"Oh, yeah." He obeyed, pulling his pants on, but staring resentfully at Bruce.

"I'll come back in a few days. Do what the doctor tells you." Bruce leaned in to give him a warm kiss. The Joker reluctantly kissed back, then glared balefully at the man he knew to be Batman.

"I liked you better in the stupid cape," he spit.

"Fine, I'll swoop in some night and we'll have a big time."

"Promises, promises. Next time sneak in some lube, my ass hurts."

"Your own fault, as I recall. But, yeah, ok."

They stared at each other for a long moment, then both cracked a grin.

" 'Bye, Bruce. See ya."

"Bye…Joker. Hey, what's your real name, anyway?"

"Jack."

"Jack? Jack what?"

"Just Jack."

"Good enough, I guess. 'Bye, Jack." He hugged him once more and headed out the door.

Bruce Wayne left Arkham, wondering what the hell he'd got himself into.


	5. Getting Well?

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Hey, how'm I doing with this? Reviews deeply appreciated!!**

Bruce was headed to Arkham. He'd received a phone call—they were transferring the Joker to a regular room on the third floor. This was a momentous occasion—it meant that the Joker was no longer considered to be a threat to himself or others. Bruce had seen him the week before, and had been pleased with his progress, but even so, he hadn't expected this. This…this was a big step.

He was taken to the Joker's room by a regular orderly, not a security guard. The Joker was sitting cross-legged on his bed, reading the newspaper. He looked up, raised an eyebrow, and nodded acknowledgement at Bruce.

"The paper sure is boring without my antics, isn't it? Wow, city manager caught in kickback scheme, ooo, fascinating…."

"Hey, you. Don't talk like that. They'll get the idea you need to go back to the sixth floor."

"Naw…I'm all warm and fuzzy, now. No threat whatsoever, not even to meee…not a suicidal bone left in my body. How ya doin', Bruce? Miss me, didja?"

Bruce came over to him and put his arms around him, hugging him tightly. The Joker responded with a lukewarm return hug.

"Yes, actually. I was thinking about you a lot. When I heard you'd been moved in here, I was really happy. Sounds like you're getting well…."

"Oh, yeah. I'm just peachy. Now, would you kindly explain what I'm supposed to do with myself, now that I'm so fucking healthy?" The Joker—Jack—had a resentful expression on his face, and Bruce noticed for the first time a smattering of freckles across his nose. Bruce grinned at him.

"Well, don't they have things for you to do here?"

"Umm, let's see, there's therapy three times a week, daily counseling sessions, _group _therapy, gotta love that, sitting in the day room, television, yeah, it's a pretty full schedule. How I find the time to talk to you, I'll never know." He flopped hopelessly back onto the bed.

"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad." Bruce affectionately ran his hand over the Joker's leg. He expected some kind of come-on, but Jack continued to lie still, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm not cut out for this, Bruce," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm used to using my brain, my hands…maybe not for socially acceptable purposes, but…I'm not used to doing nothing." He sighed tiredly.

Bruce lay down next to him and gathered him in his arms.

"You're recovering from mental illness, that's not 'nothing'. You've come a long way, an unbelievably long way, and you've worked hard to get here. You should be proud of yourself."

"I'm a little sanity machine, you bet."

Bruce looked down at him.

"Do…do you want to make love?" he asked.

Jack looked up at him.

"I…sure, if you want to," he answered dully.

Bruce frowned at him. This was not like him at all.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just…you know, Bruce, I'm not exactly queer. I mean, I like doing it with you and all, but…"

"But what?"

"I don't know, all this medication…I'm not feeling very sexy, you know?"

Bruce considered that statement.

"Well, I'm not going to force you…" His disappointment was obvious.

"Aw, hey, come on, let's do it. Maybe you could help me get in the mood, huh?" The Joker smiled, wriggled into a more upright position, and took Bruce's hand and placed it on his groin. "Please?"

Bruce hadn't encountered a situation like this ever before, but he gamely slid his hand into Jack's pants and found his cock lying soft against his leg. He picked it up and tentatively squeezed, then began stroking him, harder and faster. He began to get a weak response. He looked at Jack's face; his eyes were closed and he wore an expression of concentration and, something else—was it sadness? Bruce leaned over and kissed him lovingly. Whatever was going on with him, wasn't what Bruce had hoped for.

Jack turned and nestled against his lover. Bruce's hand felt good, and he wanted to respond to him the way he wanted. But he didn't feel that urge, that yearning. He just wanted to be held for a while…still, he wanted to please Bruce. Jeeze, he owed him so much…what the hell was a little fuck, anyway?

"It's ok, Bruce." He pulled Bruce's hand away from himself, and took down his hospital pants. He kissed Bruce, and then turned over on his belly.

"Go ahead, hey, did you bring the lube?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, I did…but I don't want to do this if you're not into it, Jack." Bruce said quietly.

"No, I am! Come on, babe, do me." He said it more playfully than sexually, but Bruce decided to take him at his word. He opened his trousers, took out his erection, and lubed himself well. He pulled Jack close to him from behind, and gently inserted a slicked up finger into him, then another, tenderly preparing him for the act that he hoped would be taken as an expression of love, not just raw lust.

Jack moaned, and seemed to like what he was doing; after a while, Bruce asked him, "Ready?" and got a muffled, "Um-hmm." Jack spread his legs apart, waiting for him to enter him.

Bruce mounted him from the rear, and carefully thrust himself into the slighter man, who gave a low groan and moved into a more comfortable position, raising his ass a little higher to give his lover better access. Bruce's cock did feel good entering him, and after a while, he began thrusting himself back, as he received Bruce's thrusts forward. He couldn't come, though.

Bruce, however, had no trouble in that department, and after driving himself into Jack for a nice, long time, his release flooded deep inside the Arkham inmate. Bruce lay on top of him for a delicious moment before pulling out and engulfing him in his arms, stroking his back, kissing Jack's neck, wanting Jack to feel pleasure from being with him again.

"Jack…you feel so good to me…are you ok?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah…I'm fine, Bruce. That was really nice." He turned to face him, nuzzled Bruce's cheek and lay happily in his arms. "Don't let me go, ok?" he asked softly.

"I don't ever want to let you go." Bruce admitted, wondering if that was a smart thing to say to a madman, no matter how well medicated he might be.


	6. Your Little Experiment

Batman. The Joker was dreaming of Batman. The powerful hands, the gruff voice, the glimmering eyes behind the mask…in his dream, _he_, the Joker, was the pursuer, fluidly bounding from rooftop to rooftop, gliding down fire escapes, easily navigating ledges, high over the incandescent illumination of his city, his Gotham….

He had just cornered the Batman. He had just thrust his long-bladed knife into the Batman's abdomen, felt the Kevlar give, felt the flesh separate, felt the grating resistance of metal on bone, when the hero disappeared, evaporating like steam from a sidewalk grate into the Gotham night.

The Joker cried out in frustration, looked down at his unmarked hand, his bloodless knife, and suddenly, the desolation of his dream brought him to foggy consciousness in his asylum bed. He raised himself on one elbow and, dazed, looked around his small, dark quarters, coming to the realization that _this_, this was reality. He felt a sob of despair simmering in his throat, and he angrily punched his right fist into his open left hand, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to divert his emotion…Bruce was coming to see him tomorrow. That was something. Something to look forward to.

Even if his containment in this place had caused him to become a ghost, a shadow of the man he had been, that was ok. That was what Bruce wanted, apparently. So, in a way, it was what Batman wanted. And, Batman was what the Joker wanted. Needed. Dreamed of….

***

Bruce Wayne woke up just before noon at Alfred's insistence—even though he had not returned until almost 6:00 a.m., he couldn't afford to sleep any later, not with a board meeting at 1:30, followed by a late lunch with Harvey Dent, and then…well. Alfred didn't know the details of his afternoon plans, but it involved another visit to Arkham to see the Joker. No. To see _Jack._

Bruce smiled for a moment before rousing himself out of his warm bed. He wondered if the day would ever come when he could wake up next to Jack…maybe they would be old men by then. He laughed at the thought. The odds of either of them making it to old man status was extremely unlikely…better make the best of "now", he thought. Better take happiness where you can find it. Even if it's in an asylum….

It had been almost a year now, and Jack was, physically, at least, on the road to recovery. His eyes looked clear, and he had put on a few healthy pounds, losing the concentration-camp severity of bones jutting out under pale skin. Some of the nervous tics and obsessive-compulsive mannerisms had abated, or even disappeared. And Bruce thought he was feeling better, mentally, too.

Jack now smiled easily and genuinely laughed occasionally, and he usually seemed happy to see his visitor, even though he was still full of complaints. Bruce took them with a grain of salt, but he did stay in close contact with his doctors, and if there appeared to be a legitimate concern, he would talk it over with them.

Bruce visited him two or three times a week, always bringing him books, magazines and newspapers to help him pass the time. He had become such a regular fixture that the nurses turned a blind eye when he stayed past visiting hours or brought Jack unapproved foods, like Chinese take out or tacos. When Bruce visited late, he and Jack would watch the news together, eat, and end up passionately making love on Jack's narrow hospital bed. Bruce was happy to find that whatever ill effects his medications had once had on Jack's libido, time had apparently been the cure, and he was definitely an enthusiastic lover once again.

More than he knew, apparently…Bruce gained permission to take Jack outside for a walk on the heavily secured grounds that only the highest-functioning inmates had access to, and only with approval. They strolled around the fenced perimeter, and Bruce was amused to find that Jack was warmly greeted by almost every inmate they met, as well as nurses and orderlies that they passed.

"You seem to have made some friends," Bruce commented.

"Yeah, I'm pretty popular. It's amazing how people come around when they don't think you're going to eviscerate them…"

"That little redhead certainly was giving you the eye…"

"Annie? Oh, yeah, she's one of my girlfriends…"

"Really."

"Sure, I've got a bunch. From nurses to inmates, got one on every floor, heh heh. Oh, don't worry, Brucie, you're my only _boyfriend_," Jack teased with a grin.

"Well, that's good, I guess. So these girlfriends of yours, what do you…_do_, together?" Bruce felt like the parent of a kindergartener, trying to figure out how much of his child's story was true and how much sheer fantasy.

"Oh, you know, we hang out in the day room, watch Oprah, fuck our brains out…."

Bruce looked at him, shocked. Was he serious?

"You're kidding, right?" he asked, his voice slightly tense.

"Uh…ok, if you say so." The Joker's mouth twisted in amusement at Bruce's obvious jealousy.

"Jack—do you mean to tell me you're having sex with the women in this place?"

Jack snickered. "Well, hell, yeah, Bruce!! I _told _you, there's nothing to _do _around here but fuck and get blow jobs. Why wouldn't I?"

"_Why_? Because, idiot, you're _cheating_ on me, _that's _why…"

"_Cheating_ on you? Oh, come on! How am I cheating on you??"

Bruce now felt like the parent of a teenager, trying to figure out how to explain why it was worse for the kid to smoke pot than it was for the parent to drink booze.

"Jack. _We are in a relationship_…if you have sex with other people, that's called 'cheating'." Bruce tried to be patient. It was hard to believe the blonde-haired young man standing in front of him could be so dense, but he genuinely seemed bewildered.

"Look, Bruce…I don't know what you're talking about. What 'relationship' are you referring to?" Jack asked hesitantly.

Bruce was about to lose his temper.

"How about the fact that I've risked my reputation to make sure you received the best possible care in this place? That I've gone out of my way to help you? That I've come to see you at every possible opportunity? That I do these things because…I care about you? Wouldn't you call that being in a relationship?" he asked bitterly.

"Oooh, I _see._ Hmm. Well, to be honest, Bruce, I thought I was kind of…your special little hobby. An…experiment. You know, the billionaire wants to see how much of his time and money it would take to turn a nutcase like me into a _good_ little boy." Jack's eyes narrowed in anger.

"Or…maybe it's that you just like having your psycho freak-whore _contained_ where you can get at him any time you want. You know, when you feel like slumming. Sticking your dick into something a little more exotic than your society bitches. I certainly didn't think my getting a little recreational pussy would cause _you_ any harm." Jack glared at Bruce resentfully and walked on ahead.

Jack's words stung. The fact that he hadn't touched another person—male or female—since he became involved with Jack made him feel a bit self-righteous, but of course, Jack was reading the papers—he would see the obligatory society page photos of Bruce out on the town every week with a beautiful lady on his arm. He sighed heavily.

"Jack…stop. Please, let's go back to your room and talk about this." Bruce caught up to Jack and gently clasped his arm.

Jack turned, his expression grim.

"You can't control me, Bruce. I told you long ago, I do what I want. Maybe I'm locked up in the loony bin, but I still _do what I want_. If you don't like it, let me go. Fuck off. If you take your money and blow me off, I'll be back in the basement in no time. And then, I'll be dead. And we'll both have gotten what we wanted. Eventually."

Bruce felt a chill of apprehension. Was the Joker serious? Or was he merely using emotional blackmail to get his way?

"Jack…listen to me. I don't want to go away, and I don't want anything to happen to you. Don't you have any feelings for me? Has everything that's happened between us meant nothing at all? I need to know, Jack. You're not an experiment, and you're not a…whore. I _never _thought that. You're important to me, because I care for you. Don't you know I wish we could be together all the time? But we can't. So, I do the best I can. I thought…I thought you knew that."

Jack bit his lower lip and stared gravely at Bruce. He was quiet for a long moment, then he sighed.

"You know I care about you," Jack stated begrudgingly. "I'm only here _because _of you. But you never tell me anything. I don't know what you want from me, other than sex. That's about all I have to offer you, ya know. It's not like I can…fix dinner for you. Drop off your dry cleaning. Go to a movie with you. Honestly, Bruce…what the hell do you get out of this arrangement?" The Joker fixed Bruce with an expression of sincere curiosity.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably. It was a question that was constantly in the back of his mind, one which he rarely allowed to come forward. Finally, he answered.

"I get…to be with you. And, that's enough."

The two men stared at each other. After a long pause, Jack smiled slowly, uncertainly. He motioned toward the residence wing, and he and Bruce started walking back to Jack's room. It was time for the news.

***


	7. Lost and Found

_**A/N: Hello dear readers, I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday!! I hope I haven't left you hanging too long, it was crazy around here...please leave a review, I don't mind if they're unsigned--consider it a good deed for the end of the year!! Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy this chapter...**_

_**Seditionary**_

_* * *_

It was a gloomy September morning. Rachel Dawes was already holed up in her office, busily typing up her case notes when Harvey Dent tapped on her door. "Come in," she called. Looking up, she saw his face and immediately knew that he was upset.

"Harvey, what's wrong?"

"Rachel, haven't you heard? The Joker's escaped from Arkham."

Rachel was stunned. All of the craziness, all of the confusion attached to that name suddenly came washing over her, as fresh as the day she first learned of his existence.

"Oh, Harvey, are you sure?"

"Of course, it's all over the news. There's a manhunt going on, but apparently he got out hours before anyone noticed. He could be three states away by now."

"My God...was anyone...hurt?" Rachel asked hesitantly. The Joker tended to leave a few bodies behind him wherever he went....

"Uh, no, not that I know of. There was nothing in the news report, anyway. I'll see if I can find out for sure..."

"Harvey, this is terrible. Poor Bruce. He put so much on the line to help that psychopathic maniac, and never gave a thought to how dangerous he really is. I just knew something like this was going to happen...." Rachel face had tensed into an expression of worry and concern.

As soon as Harvey left, Rachel dialed the phone. She needed to talk to Bruce Wayne, and she needed to talk to him _now._

_* * *_

The Batman had returned to his underground lair in the wee hours of the morning, already feeling the effects of a strenuous night of patrolling, followed by a skirmish involving a drug deal gone wrong on the lower east side. As he shed his costume, Bruce Wayne emerged, and it was with eternal gratitude that he was able to quietly head upstairs to throw himself onto his bed where he could stretch out flat and let the throbbing in his back and shoulder ease up with the aid of a prescription strength dose of ibuprofen.

It was the jangling clatter of the telephone that wrested Bruce from a sound sleep a mere three hours later; he blindly groped for the infernal device and muttered a choked "Hello" into the receiver.

"Bruce, have you heard? The Joker's escaped." Rachel's voice was harsh, accusatory. The words sounded foreign to Bruce's sleep deprived ear.

"_What?_ What did you say, Rachel?"

"You heard me, Bruce. Your little charity project has escaped and will no doubt be wreaking havoc on this already disaster-prone city of ours in no time. What are you going to do about it?"

"My God, when? Was anyone hurt?" When he said hurt, he meant "killed", of course....

"No, no one was hurt, apparently. Amazingly. And they're not sure when it happened, but it must have been yesterday evening."

Yesterday...Bruce had meant to make a visit to Arkham yesterday, but he got wind of that damned drug deal...damn it. Was this his fault? _Batman's _fault? Was this Jack's way of punishing him for not paying him enough attention?

"Bruce, do you have any idea where that lunatic might go? The police have been on the case for hours, and no luck."

"No, Rachel, it's not like he has any family or friends that would take him in. I don't have a clue where he could be."

"If people die because of him, it's blood on your hands, too, Bruce. You're the one who was pulling the strings, getting him special treatment in the asylum. I just hope no one decides to point that out in the news," Rachel direly commented.

"Thanks for your support, Rachel," answered Bruce sarcastically. "I'm not going to argue with you about this. I did what I believed was right--I made sure he got competent, caring therapy, not 'special treatment'. Everything that happened was under a doctor's care, based on Ja--the _Joker's_ progress. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Well, maybe not, but something _did _go wrong, and my fear is that it's going to come back to haunt you, whether that's fair or not."

"If so, I'll handle it. I'd just like to know that my best friend is behind me--if indeed you _are _behind me on this._"_

"Of course, Bruce. You know you have my total support. Even if I do think you're an idiot."

"Wonderful. Those are words of great comfort to me."

"I'm sorry, Bruce. I know...I know your philosophy is based on humanitarian principles. But I'm afraid the Joker's the wrong man to practice them on." Rachel tried to sound conciliatory.

"Rachel...I'm going to do everything in my power to find him and get him safely back to Arkham before anything bad happens. And I mean _everything," _he said meaningfully, letting her know that Batman would be involved.

"Ok, Bruce. Just be careful. Who knows what his mental state is like now?"

"Don't worry, Rachel. I got to know him...pretty well. I think I can take care of myself."

"I hope so, Bruce. I hope you know what you're doing."

"Me, too, Rachel, me too."

* * *

The Joker was exploring an old abandoned warehouse on the east side of town, considering its possibilities as a temporary residence until he could get his bearings on the outside again. It was getting dark and chilly, and of course there was no electricity or any other utility available; still, it was the best he could do, for now. He had to lay low--_very_ low--for a while. Let the Arkham bloodhounds lose the scent. He needed to drop off the face of the earth, as far as the cops were concerned. He had to..._disappear_.

He found an old office with a locking door. That suited him. He'd been penned up in a small room for so long, there was something comforting about it now. Even in pitch dark. He curled up in a corner, and settled in for some sleep. He'd been awake for almost 48 hours and, with the meds still in his system, that was no small feat.

Getting out had been a piece of cake. Hell, he could of done it months ago; once they moved him out of the high security area, once he had the use of his _hands_ again_, _and once they eliminated one of the more stupefying drugs from his regimen, yeah, getting out wasn't that much of a challenge. Oh, he'd thought about it before, he'd thought about it _plenty_. But...he had been curious. What were they going to do with him? Would it help? Didn't seem possible, and yet...here he was, poof! fucking magic trick, all suicidal urges gone, leaving him a _new man_, heh heh...

And then there was Bruce...poor, sweet, trusting Bruce. _Damn_, he was dynamite in the sack. Such a hot body, a _hell _of a nice, big thick cock on 'im too, and, man, did he know what to do with it. Well, he did _now_, after the Joker had clued him in...that had taken a while. He was so damn _innocent _at first. So hesitant to just shove it up his ass, right where it would do the most good...oh, that was priceless. The Joker had to get him over _that _nonsense in a _hurry._

But, Bruce...ya know, it was funny how gentle he was with him. Which was nice for a change, but hell, the Joker was used to rough, hard-core, no-nonsense _fucking_ when he did it with a guy, and maybe he'd killed off some nerve endings or something. He could only put up with juust so much of that sweetie-pie "Are you ok? Am I _hurting _you? Do you want me to stop?" crap. Bruce knew better now, knew to just get down to business, and it was _fantastic...._

Kind of made it all worthwhile, you know? And, besides, Bruce was, um..._adorable_. In a high-tone, expensive shoes, champagne-not-beer, _classy_ kind of way, not the Joker's style AT ALL, normally, but...hey, who knows why two people end up in bed together? Bruce was a sweetheart, all right. Oh, he was wound too tight, no doubt about that, but yeah. A total sweetheart.

But now...things had changed. Bruce was coming by less and less...too busy for his favorite loony-tunes science project, the Joker supposed. Bruce had a life--ha, he had a _double_ life--and the Joker couldn't rely on him for his amusement anymore. No. The time had come. He had to get out and...start living again. Oh...and, he had to find Batman. Batman was _definitely_ more his style....

* * *

Harvey Dent left Rachel's office in a foul mood. He found Rachel's concern for Bruce Wayne to be exceedingly annoying. He knew they were friends--had been since childhood--but Harvey knew they had been more than that at one time. Rachel refused to talk about it; acted like it was sometime in the far distant past, but, looking back through some newspaper archives on line--they always showed up together in the society pages--it didn't appear to have been _that _long ago.

Harvey liked Bruce all right, but there was something about him...he couldn't put his finger on it, but he didn't entirely trust him. He seemed to have something to hide, and Harvey didn't like Rachel to be so wrapped up in the life of a guy that he couldn't trust. Anyway, he didn't believe men and women could be "just friends", not really. There was more to their relationship than what either Rachel or Bruce chose to reveal. He just knew it. And, if he was going to get Rachel to fall in love with him for real, he would have to figure it out.

* * *

Driving to his office at Wayne Enterprises, blearily negotiating early morning traffic, Bruce felt as if he were going out of his mind. Days had passed, and there was still no sign of the Joker, no leads, no chatter on the Internet, nothing. In a way, he knew that was a good thing; at least he wasn't rampaging around the city, robbing or murdering innocent people. Not yet, anyway.

However, the silence was deafening. It left too many dreadful possibilities for Bruce to obsess over. Had the Joker finally decided to carry out his long-ago threat of killing himself? Had all the work Jack had done to get well, all the effort Bruce had put into finding him proper care, been for nothing? If his decomposing body was ever found, what would it reveal? Poison? Throat sliced open and bled out? Shot by his own hand? It wouldn't matter--Bruce knew it would have been _his _fault and that he could never forgive himself.

Or, had something else happened? Was Jack lying beaten and bloodied, dead in an alley somewhere, a victim of some random crime? Had he lost the ability to protect himself, like a rescued animal released back into the wild?

Bruce had vivid, delicious memories of their very first hand-to-hand battle, how feral the Joker had appeared, how swift and clever he was. His strength was quite amazing for a man of his size, but even so, he had been no match for Batman on that count; still, he more than made up for it with his untamed agility and dirty fighting techniques...Batman had lost him in the rooftops, and had to slink back to his lair unsatisfied. Fortunately, there had been a next time, and a next time...until, that last time, when they had kissed and ended up in the Joker's bed, putting a sweet end to the battles...Bruce sighed.

The gut-wrenching uncertainty was bad enough, the guilt was staggering, but the pain of losing Jack...that was unbearable. Bruce _missed _him. He hadn't realized how deeply the guy had gotten under his skin. Hadn't realized how much he counted on seeing him to get him through the boredom of his days, the terror of his nights.

Bruce missed his lover's wicked grin, his laughing eyes...Jack's electric touch on his body, whether it was his hands or his mouth he chose to use to drive Bruce into ecstasy. Bruce missed touching _him_...kissing, licking, _tasting_ his mouth, his neck, his cock....Jack lying under him, raw sex mixed with sweet lovemaking. And then the warm, delicious intimacy of holding one another afterwards, even though they were never permitted the simple pleasure of drifting off to sleep in each other's arms.

Yes, it was just a cheap, wonton coupling at first. A savage, bratty clown taking corrupt pleasure in the debasement of a noble, heroic knight. But somehow...they weren't those symbols. Dark and light, bad and good. They were two desperate men, each with their own emptiness and sorrows, and if they found some comfort in each other's arms, who was to say it was wrong?

The truth was, Bruce was..._addicted_. The sheer excitement of his visits with Jack was an addiction. Never knowing if he would leave with deep, burning scratches on his back and bite marks on his shoulders, filthy obscenities and feral yowls of pleasure still echoing in his ears; or with memories of tender fingers brushing through his hair, tracing their way down his chest; warm, moist lips sliding unhurriedly over his, a loving tongue slipping over the hollow of his neck in an eager expression of affection.

He should have talked to him more. Made him understand that he didn't mean to neglect him, that it was just that he was on a big case right now, that there was a lot at stake, and when it was over, he'd be able to come to see him as often as he used to, even if not as often as he wanted him to. Why didn't he talk to him?

The Joker--Jack--_had _to still be alive, he just had to be. Bruce _had _to find him. Before something horrible really did happen. Before it was too late.

* * *

Bruce knew he had to let go of his worries and concentrate on the business at hand. As he dressed in his Bat suit, he forced himself to push thoughts of his missing lover out of his mind and focus on a situation he _could_ do something about.

Batman was on the trail of the man he had identified as the main contact between the munitions manufacturer and the mob. He was determined to find evidence that he could provide to the FBI to show that there was an illegal arrangement between the two entities and that they were, in fact, facilitating arms deals with a third world country. As Bruce Wayne, he had been nurturing his sources for a long time. As Batman, he had been doing a lot of legwork.

Tonight, it looked like everything just might come to a head.

He followed the man to the rendezvous spot, a balcony on an old office building in the warehouse district. Two other men, mob guys, met him and they chatted amiably for a while. Batman had a video recorder going, and he needed a better angle. He was perched on a ledge above and catty-corner to their location, and he silently slipped around the corner, intent on monitoring the sound and visual integrity to make sure the footage would be usable.

Suddenly, a shot rang out. Two more men had arrived and they were clearly intent on interrupting the deal. More shots. One of the mob boys was down. The Batman recognized Jim Gordon's men, and, using his cape, he swooped down to the source of the action; he pushed the terrified contact out of range--once he came to his senses, he quickly took flight. One of the plainclothes detectives was injured; Batman pulled him into a place of relative safety behind a condenser unit. A shot took out the second detective, and then it was just the second mobster and Batman.

Batman struggled to take the gun from his opponent, but just as he was gaining the upper hand, the severely injured goon on the ground rallied long enough to shake his head and take aim from his floor-level position. He fired, hitting Batman in the chest. The Kevlar prevented penetration, but the impact threw Batman off balance and a wrenching pain in his chest caused him to lose concentration. He stumbled backward, flailing to support himself against the wall.

The standing gunman took aim and was just about to deliver a point-blank shot from his own weapon directly into the Batman's belly, when the Joker bound out from the shadows and wrapped a purple-clad arm around his neck. Simultaneously, he sliced through the would-be shooter's arm with a stiletto blade, making him drop the gun and shriek in pain.

"Hey, asshole, stop tryin' to kill my damn boyfriend..." the Joker hissed into the man's ear, just before he plunged his knife into the assailant's throat.

* * *


	8. How Crazy Are You, Now?

"Joker!" said Batman hoarsely. He had sunk down to the floor and was sitting, stunned, against the brick enclosure of the balcony. His chest hurt, and he was short of breath.

Everyone else was either dead or unconscious.

"Hi, babe. Ewww...you don't look so good. I think that bullet did some damage. We gotta get you out of here...."

"No! Jack...check the detective...he may still be alive."

The Joker curled his lip in an annoyed scowl, but he knelt by Gordon's man, checking his pulse. He pulled a phone out of the victim's pocket and called in a report, using an uncharacteristically deep, fake voice. He checked the other detective, but he looked at Batman and shook his head.

"He's gone. Other guy'll be all right. These fools are toast," he said, referring to the dead mobsters. "We need to be on the move, Batsy, cops'll be here in a minute," he said firmly.

"No--I need to..." Batman's gaze shifted from the Joker's face to the direction in which the contact man had taken off. His voice was weak.

"Oh, ho, you think the Bat's going to catch up with the rat? Sorry, doll face, but you need to rest. You're fuckin' hurt_. _But, not here. Come on, can you stand up?"

Before Batman could reply, the faint howl of a police siren became audible in the distance.

"That's it, we're gone," ordered the Joker. He crouched in front of Batman, peering at his eyes to see if he was responsive.

"Come on, gorgeous, you're going to be fine, but you don't want to have this particular conversation with the cops, do you? Here, I'll help you up...." Smiling encouragingly, Jack offered his arms to Batman, who accepted the support as he painfully pulled himself to his feet. He leaned heavily on the smaller man, who led him into the building.

The Joker was dismayed by Batman's weakness; if it were possible, he would have slung him over his shoulder and taken him to a place of safety immediately, but he was barely able to stay upright with the larger man's heavy weight on his shoulders.

They slowly made their way inside the building and out onto the roof. Bruce knew that Jack was taking an extreme chance by staying with him; not only was he risking the loss of his new-found freedom if the cops were to catch up to them, but he had no assurance that Batman himself wouldn't manage to overtake him at any moment and make sure he was returned to Arkham.

But the Joker, apparently, had no such concerns. He worked hard to help the Batman skulk laboriously from one nearby tall building to another, and they both had a frightening moment when Batman lost his footing on a rooftop edge and the Joker had to make a Herculean effort to hang onto him, pulling and straining muscles in his back.

They finally arrived at the old warehouse where the Joker had set up his temporary residence, and both gratefully clambered into the window of his makeshift apartment.

Batman was drained and suffering a deep, sharp pain in his chest where the bullet had impacted. The Joker led him to an old, beat-up couch he had dragged in from the street, and Bruce promptly collapsed, half lying and half sitting at one end. Jack flopped down at the opposite end and intertwined his long legs with Bruce's in comfortable familiarity. Both men sat breathing heavily, exhausted from their exertions, staring blankly at each other.

After regaining some energy, the Joker grinned at the Batman and resolutely swung his legs onto the floor. He arched backward, audibly cracking his back all along the length of his spine, groaning in pain.

"Damn, Batsy, you already fucked my back up once, did you really have to take another shot at it? I'll never be able to be on top if I keep going like this...."

"Where the hell are we?" Bruce asked hoarsely, ignoring his complaint.

"Oh, this is my swinging bachelor pad, can't you tell? I can see how you wouldn't notice, haven't had a chance to order the shag carpeting yet. Listen, bud, I need to take a look at you...get this gear off for me, would ya?" Jack asked, indicating Batman's Kevlar armor.

Bruce tried to comply, but the ache and stabbing pain that resulted from trying to raise his left arm caused him to wince and stop short. The Joker was at his side in a flash, and he set to the task of helping Bruce escape from his protective garment. Even in his state, Bruce couldn't help but shiver at the Joker's fingertips brushing his chest and under his arms as he struggled to pull the tight, clingy fabric over the muscular man's head.

Once his chest was bare, the Joker screwed up his mouth in distaste.

"Yuck. That is an amazing bruise you've got there, babe. I bet it hurts, huh?"

"Yeah, it smarts. But, I think I'll be ok."

"Are you breathing all right?"

"Yes...I'm better."

"That's good...I was afraid you had a collapsed lung or something."

"I really thought it was a broken rib, but now I'm pretty sure it's just a bruised muscle, or several. I just need to rest a while..."

"Yeah., good idea. Come on, I'll help you get in bed."

"No, I'll be fine right here..." Bruce didn't think he had any movement left in his body.

"Aw, come on, Bats, you'll be more comfortable if you can stretch out. Plus, I'll lay down with ya, if you want. You missed me, right?"

The Batman looked irritably at his former lover and realized that he was angry with him. Damn little bastard had let him go on worrying about him for weeks...he could have sent him a sign, just something so he'd know he was ok, but no. Not a single word.

Still...it would be nice to lay down with him. Assuming he wouldn't take the opportunity to murder him in his sleep...at that point, Bruce was so exhausted, he really didn't care if he did.

"Ok...but, how crazy are you, at this point?"

"Aw, come on, Batsy, I just saved your life! Can't ya give me a break, for once? I've been a very good boy, or haven't you noticed? Oh, _please_ tell me you've noticed, for God's sake." The Joker frowned at him in exasperation. What was the point of stifling all his natural urges for mayhem if the Bat wasn't even paying attention?

"It's been awfully quiet in Gotham, I must say," acknowledged Batman.

"Yeah, look...."

Mollified, the Joker went over to an old chest of drawers and pulled out a handful of pill bottles.

"See? Before I took my little walk, I nabbed a bunch of my prescriptions from the pharmacy. I've been taking 'em everyday, just like when I was in the loony bin." The Joker looked at Bruce questioningly. "Does that make you feel any better?"

"How the hell did you get away with not only escaping but burglarizing the pharmacy, and all without hurting anybody?" asked Bruce in amazement.

The Joker broke into high-pitched laughter.

"I _told _you I was bored, sweetie! I was plotting it for weeks! And I knew you'd get mad at me if I, you know, _offed_ anybody in the process, not that I particularly wanted to, what with my happy pills and all...I just had to wait for the right moment. Listen, here's what I did, it wasn't hard..."

"Ok, ok, I don't want to know...let me take a nap, ok?"

"Sure, Bats, I'm a little bit tired myself." With that, the Joker took off his coat and jacket and lay down next to Bruce, pulling a faded quilt over the two of them.

Bruce settled in. lying on his good side with his back to the Joker, when he felt a warm arm wrap around his waist.

"Does it hurt for me to touch ya?" whispered Jack.

"No, just don't touch my chest. It still hurts pretty badly."

"Ok." The slighter man snuggled as close as possible without causing his lover any discomfort and soon they were both sound asleep.

* * *

Hours later, the Joker awoke, slowly coming to consciousness still feeling groggy and stifled, as though in a fog-filled chamber.

He allowed his mind to wander, almost falling back to sleep yet again. He felt like he was under the influence of some drug--sleep had been unrelenting, forcibly taking him back into darkness every time he tried to struggle free. But now, when he finally grabbed hold of the daylight long enough to make his eyes stay open, he turned over and saw the peaceful expression on Bruce Wayne's handsome, sleeping face, and a slow grin stole over his painted lips.

He had eagerly snuggled up next to him, causing Bruce to stir. Finally awake himself, he scooped him into his arms, unmindful of the disturbing black, blue, yellow and orange bruise that had spread across one side of his chest. If it caused him pain, he was ignoring it. He pulled the Joker's body tightly against his, slipping his hand behind his neck, forcing his face upward so that he could deliver a deep, exploratory kiss onto the Joker's warm lips. Bruce's jaw worked feverishly, his tongue demanding entrance into the Joker's teasing mouth, and they quickly became lost in the kiss. Suddenly, Bruce pulled back and eyed the Joker critically.

"Go take that disgusting paint off of your face," Bruce ordered gruffly.

"Fuck you, Bats, no way," retorted the Joker defiantly, reaching back to continue the kiss.

"Yes, way. I'm not going to go on kissing you with that stuff all over your mouth."

"Tough, it stays. Kissing's overrated anyway, just a way of stalling before ya get to the good stuff..."

"Yeah? Well, I'm not doing anything _else_ with you, either, until you go wash it off," Bruce asserted firmly, giving him a push away from himself and coldly turning back to lie on his pillow.

The Joker stared at him angrily.

"Ok, fine! It's all about what you want, isn't it?" He rolled off the bed and disappeared out of the room. After several long minutes, he returned, his pale face reddened, scrubbed clean, except for small amounts of greasepaint caked around his nose and at his hairline. He irritably crawled back under the covers with Bruce.

"There, I hope you're happy."

Bruce regarded the restoration of his lover's handsome face and smiled deeply.

"Yeah, I am. Very. Now, you need to take your damn clown costume off."

"Clown costume? You should talk, O Great Batman, with your idiotic rubber mask..."

"Just take off your fucking clothes!" Bruce demanded, nearing exasperation.

This time, the Joker did as requested with no argument, and Bruce gamely struggled out of the rest of his outfit as well, with a little help from the Joker. He wasted no time reclaiming his lover's lithe body, and they slipped back into a passionate embrace, into the lost world of their kisses, this time with Bruce's hands slipping lovingly over his slender body, caressing and teasing him as the Joker wriggled eagerly against him.

Bruce slid his hands downward, over the small of his back to his rear, and grasped each firm cheek in turn, affectionately squeezing and stroking him there as his tongue continued to caress the inside of the Joker's eager mouth. Suddenly, he pulled him almost on top of himself, securing him tightly with one strong arm to prevent him from wrestling free, pushed back the covers, and proceeded to administer several hard, stinging open-handed smacks to his bare bottom, alternating from one round cheek to the other.

"Ow! _Hey! _Ow, what the _hell....?" _asked the Joker, eyes wide with genuine surprise, squirming in both pain and delicious pleasure.

"Listen, you little fucker, I should beat the _hell _out of you for the scare you gave me. I was out of my mind, worrying about you!" Bruce's dark eyes pierced into Jack's soul as he finally allowed him to wriggle out of his grasp so the Joker could stare back at him in amazement.

"Well...shit! You're just full of surprises, Batsy! You know, I never minded having you smack me around, but a spanking? Kind of kinky! More of a turn on than I would have thought...but, jeeze, I didn't think you cared what the hell happened to me. I mean, you practically never came to see me any more..." The Joker's voice trailed off, and he simply fell back next to Bruce, staring up at the ceiling.

They were both quiet for a while, then Bruce spoke up.

"Ok, Jack...you're right, I _was_ preoccupied. And I didn't tell you what was going on with me. As you may have noticed, I've been working on a big case--it's very important and has taken a lot of my time. I guess...I guess I still didn't trust you to keep quiet about such things. So I didn't tell you. And for that, I'm sorry, very, very sorry. But, you shouldn't have just disappeared like that. Not only have you seriously screwed up your chances of ever legitimately getting released from Arkham , but....I didn't know what happened to you. I thought you...." Bruce couldn't say the words. The Joker looked at him inquisitively.

"You thought I what?"

"Went through with your threat of killing yourself."

"Oh...well, _that _was stupid. I _told_ you I was all better. There was nothing to worry about."

Bruce felt a flood of frustration wash over him. How could a man who was so clever and intelligent be so incredibly dense?

"When you _care_ about somebody, you worry! You could have at least let me know you were alive!"

"Oh, why, so the good Bat Scout could track me down and throw my ass back in the nut house? I couldn't take that chance! Anyway, if you ever bothered to pay attention to anything other than your 'big case', you might have noticed I've been around all along. How do you think I managed to show up when I did last night?"

Bruce stared at him, shocked.

"Are you saying you've been following me?"

"Yeah, sugar. I've been your shadow, your, um, guardian angel if you will, every time the Bat's gone out ever since I escaped." The Joker smiled smugly at his lover and snuggled back into his arms.

"You are such an idiot ! Why would you do that?" Bruce asked helplessly.

"Well, for one thing, it was fun. Exciting. Challenging...everything life in Arkham _wasn't. _It was great! For another, I could see you really needed some looking after. You take too many chances, Bats. Look at what happened last night...."

"That was unusual. I never expected Gordon's men to show up. That was a huge mistake, and there wasn't anything I could do but try to help."

"Yeah, well, it was a good thing I was there, is all I'm sayin'."

They were quiet again. Finally, bored, the Joker began poking none-too-gently at Bruce's massive bruise, causing him to recoil in pain.

"Hey, cut it out! Stop it, that's still painful!"

"Is it?" Still poking.

"God, yes, stop!" Bruce grabbed the Joker's wrist and forced his hand up over his head, rolled on top of him, and began roughly kissing him again. He was amused at how eagerly the Joker responded to an activity he had so scornfully dismissed not a half hour earlier.

"So, am I wasting my time? Stalling before we get to the good stuff?" asked Bruce teasingly, grinning down at his lover.

"Naw...you make me feel...liquid when you do that. I guess kissing's ok, sometimes...."

"Well...moving right along, do you have any...?"

"Oh, yeah, here..." The Joker reached into the drawer of his nightstand and handed the tube to Bruce.

Oh, yeah. He parted his legs and a slow grin spread across the Joker's face as Bruce began sliding two well-slicked fingers in and out of him, preparing him for their lovemaking. He reached in far enough to repeatedly brush his fingertips over his prostate, then helped Jack to open up to him by gently pulling his fingers apart, working to relax the tight muscles of his entrance.

When he finally, slowly slipped his fingers out and gruffly muttered, "Turn over," the Joker felt a tidal wave of excitement flood through him. He hadn't been with anyone else since Bruce explained the concept of infidelity to him, and he was horny as hell. He apparently took too long to obey, so Bats unceremoniously flipped him over onto his belly and yanked his hips up high, using his knee to force the smaller man's legs wide apart so he could fuck him from an upright, kneeling position.

The first round turned into a frantic, unthinking coupling.

The Bat's cock slickly sliding in and out of him felt so damn _good. _The way he had to stretch to accommodate his girth, to let him in. That had hurt, a little, right at first. Not surprising, it had been a while...but then, the head scraping against his prostate over and over, Batman working so industriously to thrust deeper and deeper into his tight channel, pulling his hips tighter, closer to him...the pain passed into sheer pleasure, and just became part of the delicious explosion of sensations washing over him.

The first, sudden scrape of the head of Bat's cock over his prostate sent him into a deep, guttural groan, and the last, many long, delicious minutes later, had caused him to escalate into high-pitched keening, pleading, urging...finishing with a loud cry as he came all over his ragged comforter. Bats had come only seconds later, and the Joker was amazed that he was able to thrust into him so deeply without tearing him apart.

Then they had lain, panting, the Joker feeling the Bat's chest heaving against his back, his softening cock sticky and cool against his rear. The Batman had let him cuddle against him, begrudgingly pulling him closer, not saying a word, but making him feel wanted, desired, needed once again....


	9. Coffee and Doughnuts

_**A/N: There was a request for a back story for the Joker, so this is my version! Hope no one is offended. Thank you so much for the favorites and reviews!!! Keep 'em coming, they make my heart sing!**_

_**Seditionary**_

_* * *_

The following morning, Bruce awoke to a dull ache in his chest. He was disoriented, and as he looked around the unfamiliar room, he slowly came to the realization that the pain was a remnant of the gunshot his Kevlar had deflected, leaving him with a deep muscle bruise, and that he was...oh, God...in the Joker's primitive hovel.

"Morning, angel." a soft voice greeted him. Bruce followed the sound and focused his eyes on his lover, sitting cross-legged on the couch with a newspaper on his lap and a pen in his hand. Clad in jeans and a t-shirt, with tousled blond curls falling around his unpainted face, the Joker looked like nothing so much as an errant college student after a little too much partying.

Bruce stretched his naked body under the warm comforter, sat up and regarded the young man with a combination of affection, lust, and perplexity.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"Crossword." The Joker held up the folded paper to show Bruce his progress. He had the grid almost completed.

"Tough one today. Hey, there's doughnuts and coffee, if you want." He gestured at the battered coffee table with his pen, and, dropping his head in concentration, returned to his puzzle.

Bruce broke into a grin.

"You went out this early to get a paper and doughnuts?" he asked in amused disbelief.

"Yeah....what's so odd about that?" asked the Joker, slightly defensive.

"You're not afraid of being recognized?"

"Oh, not really. I put a scarf over my face. Honestly, Bats, you can murder people in cold blood on the sidewalks around here and if anyone stops, it's only to swipe the dead guy's wallet."

Bruce had the uncomfortable realization that the Joker was probably speaking from experience. Still, he was looking extremely fuckable, perched on the couch...

"Hey, come here," Bruce ordered.

The Joker looked up at his guest and broke into a broad grin.

"Hold your horses, I've only got three more clues to go!"

"Don't fuck with me, Jack, get your ass over here."

With mock reluctance, he Joker put down his paper and ambled over to the bed.

"What do you _waaaant?"_ he whined.

Bruce pulled him under the covers with him, took his hand and placed it on his straining erection.

"You know what I want."

"Sounds like a personal problem to me," the Joker smirked. "You think I have all day to lie around in bed, servicing you?"

"Yep." Bruce forced him onto his back and began kissing him demandingly. The Joker tasted of coffee and raw sugar.

"Umm...you taste good. Maybe I could be distracted with a doughnut, after all...." murmured Bruce.

"Fat chance..." his lover retorted as he firmly stroked the bigger man's cock. Bruce eagerly worked his erection against the other's hand until Jack stopped, struggled out of his jeans and underwear and parted his legs. Bruce settled comfortably between them, and reached for the lubricant. The pleasurable thrusting went on for a good long time before each man came, and afterward they lay in each other's arms, content and satisfied in a way neither was exactly familiar with.

"Mmm, morning sex. An unusual luxury..." said the Joker, burrowing further into Bruce's strong embrace.

"Yeah...this is the first time we've spent the night together, isn't it?" Bruce mused.

"Only because you were too big of a wuss to stay over at Arkham. Afraid they wouldn't let ya leave, weren't you, tough guy?" teased the blond.

"Maybe I was afraid I wouldn't want to..."whispered Bruce, almost to himself. Jack looked at him quizzically and smiled. Bruce ran a finger over the deep scar on the right side of the Joker's face and grinned as the man rubbed his cheek into the caress, like a cat.

"How'd you get those scars, anyway?" Bruce asked curiously.

Jack looked at him, surprised. What made him ask, at this late date?

"You really want to know?"

"That's why I asked, genius," retorted Bruce.

"No, I just meant...you never asked before."

"I always thought it might put you over the edge while you were in treatment..."

"Oh, did you think I quit noticing 'em, what with the Thorazine and all?"

"NO! I just...never mind. Having a conversation with you is like herding cats...."

"Oh, chill. I'll tell ya. But don't go feeling sorry for me and all that bullshit, understand?"

"You'd be surprised how little sympathy I really have for you these days, Joker."

"Ha ha, well, good. Ok--so I was shaving one day, using one of those old-fashioned straight razors, right? And it slipped! Gave myself quite a little nick, riiiight on the side of my mouth. Well, I thought that looked kind of off-balance, so I did another one, on the other side. But, you know how it is, kind of like trying to give yourself a haircut, that one was longer than the first, so I had to even it up! Well, it was pretty painful, so I finally gave up trying, but maybe one day I'll take another shot at it...."

"You are so full of shit."

"What! You don't believe me? Swear to God, Bats, swear to God..."

Bruce rolled his eyes, and shoved him over to the other side of the bed in disgust. The Joker had dissolved into helpless cackling, having a good laugh at his bedmate's irritation.

"Aw, come on Batsy, it's funny, right?" he gasped, trying to contain his amusement.

"Just hilarious. Never mind, I don't want to know after all."

"Oh, sure you do, look, I'm sorry, I'll tell ya, I'll tell ya. When I was a little kid, my mom used to take me for walks in the park. Well, one day, we came upon this rogue chipmunk, and it ran up my pants leg and attacked me! Went right for my face. I think I was eating peanuts at the time. Sooo...."

Bruce was staring dispassionately at Jack as his laughter choked off his ability to continue his tale. When he finally regained his composure, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, he looked at Bruce's serious expression and frowned.

"Ah, lighten up, Bats! Come on, a chipmunk? Just the word itself is funny! Hey, why so serious, huh? I'm just pulling your leg, having a little fun with ya...give me a break, will you?"

Bruce took a deep breath.

"You know, you don't think twice about letting me use your body any way I want. I can demand anything and you'll give it to me. No matter how much, how long, how rough, you'll go along with it, even to the point of letting me hurt you. But you never let me in _here," _he said, gesturing at the Joker's head. "You never let me know who you really are, or help me to understand how you became the person you are. And that makes me really sad." Bruce folded his arms over his bruised chest and shifted his gaze to the dirty window looking out onto the mean streets below.

The Joker was silent for a long moment. Finally, a look of resignation on his face, he sighed. _Jeeze, if the big guy really wanted to hear his sob story...._

"All right, then. You want to hear the whole pathetic yarn? I'll tell you. But, I meant it when I said I don't want you feeling sorry for me. Ok?" At last, his voice had a tone of sincerity to it, and a hard edge that Bruce hadn't heard before.

"Ok, Jack. No sympathy. But you better be telling the truth this time, or you'll _need _some sympathy."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Ok. I grew up in Wisconsin..."

_"Wisconsin??"_

"Yeah, Wisconsin! What? People live there...I was a kid, thirteen years old. My parents were crazy fucking fundamentalists..."

"Religious?" Bruce asked, amazed.

"Uh-huh, real Bible-thumpers. Except for the booze...my dad had a _huge_ drinking problem, but he faked it for the congregation...."

"Your father was a _minister??" _Bruce's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Yeah. So, all my life, I'm like, punished for every little thing, threatened with hell fire, locked in closets, starved, beaten, whatever seemed...appropriate. Well, of course, sex was the worst. If I ever got caught beating off, shit...I'd go to school with black eyes, bruises...he used a belt on me all the time, whether I needed it or not." The Joker recited his abuse matter-of-factly, staring at the ceiling. Bruce thought of some of the odd scars on the Joker's back and a chill went through him.

"So, I was thirteen...and this older girl started flirting with me every week at church. I was a dumb kid, didn't even know what the hell was going on with _that, _but one day, after the service, she got me to go with her to a storage shed out back. We kind of started making out, and before I knew it, she had my dick in her mouth. We ended up doing it on a pile of old newspapers."

"I guess my father saw us go off together, and he spied on us...when we were done--I assume he watched the whole thing, probably jerking off the whole time--he grabbed me and dragged me to the car, threw me in, and took me home. He locked me in a closet for hours, while he drank himself into a fire-and-brimstone mania. He pulled me out of the closet, and said 'You think women will bring you pleasure, son? That they'll bring a _smile _to your face? Well, I'm going to save you from yourself. I'll make it so no girl will ever _look _at you again. I'm doing this for your soul, son!' and he tied me to a chair, took out a knife, and...well, you know. This." The Joker gestured at his scars. Bruce felt his stomach churn at the thought of a parent injuring his child in such a horrible way.

"I remember screaming, _(please, Dad...don't, don't do it!) _begging him to stop (_oh, God, please! I won't do it again, I swear! No, no, please...)_...the pain was_...(on fire...I can't stand it...the sound...the smell of blood, the taste...flooding my mouth) _I finally blacked out and when I woke up, I found that my mother had sewn me up. _(Why'd you let him do it, Mom? WHY? I had to son. The devil is strong in you. We had to save your soul, don't you understand?) _They kept me locked up in the house for weeks while I healed--didn't want anyone to know what had happened to me so the old man wouldn't get in trouble. _(You don't want to go live in an unclean home with strangers, do you, son? You don't want your daddy to rot in prison...do you?) _When I finally recovered, I was told to say I did it to myself while I was high on drugs. I was supposed to preach on the evils of drugs to all my pals. Shit, I'd never even had a hit off a joint at the time...anyway...that's it. _(Just lie still son, thank God for the pain. The pain will cleanse you...) _Depressing, isn't it?" The telling seemed to take something out of him, and, with a heavy sigh, he turned over on his side, away from Bruce.

Bruce immediately pulled him back into his arms.

"I know you don't want my sympathy...but I'm sorry that happened to you. It was wrong--you didn't deserve it...." he said softly.

"Forget it. It was a long time ago...feels like it happened to someone else, mostly...."

"So, what happened? I can't believe the school didn't look into it..." Bruce asked gently, running his fingers through Jack's dark blond hair.

Jack made a dismissive noise.

"They never gave it a second thought. My dad had a lot of influence in that little town...no one ever asked me a single question about it."

"Did he keep...hurting you?" Bruce asked carefully.

"He...never cut me again. But, when I was fourteen, I just ran away..." he answered simply.

"Where did you go?"

The Joker turned over and grinned at Bruce.

"Now you really won't believe me."

"Uh...try me."

"I ran away and joined the circus."

"Jack, come on..."

"No, it's true. Actually, it was this crummy, third rate traveling carnival, but yeah, basically it's the same thing."

"And, what did you do in the carnival?" asked Bruce indulgently. He didn't really care if the story were true or not, not now; he was too distressed by Jack's revelations, and was glad for a distraction.

"Aw, I started out as a roustabout--you know, just doing real menial stuff, cleaning, loading trucks, stuff like that...but later, this guy that ran a game booth kind of, you know, had a thing for me, and he let me work for him...when the show hit Chicago, I left. I ended up messing around with drugs, selling 'em and stuff...then I ended up doing little jobs for this dealer, who turned out to be in the mob, and one thing led to the other, and...here I am!" He grinned innocently at Bruce for a moment, then settled back into the warmth of Bruce's arms.

"How'd you end up in Gotham?" asked Bruce.

"This guy that I worked for had connections...he sent me up here to do a job...I just never went back."

"You became a hit man."

"Well, if you want to put a label on it, yeah."

"Umm. Ok. I think I need a shower, now."

"Uh...well, that's a problem."

"Why?"

"No running water."

Bruce regarded the other with disgust.

"You're kidding."

"Hey, what do you want for freeee? I didn't exactly have a leasing agent to complain to, you know. But, there's a very nice truck stop about a mile from here, they always have hot water...."

"I'm not taking a shower in a truck stop."

Bruce had already been considering what to do about his escaped-mental-patient lover, knowing he couldn't in good conscience just leave him on his own. But he couldn't bear the thought of forcing him to return to Arkham. If he was doing this well, taking his medication and somehow surviving "in the wild," so to speak, without reverting to his psychotic state, it would be devastating to his progress to be locked up again.

He had to come up with a plan.

In the meantime, he wanted him where he could keep an eye on him.

"Pack your things." Bruce ordered.

"We're going to my place."

* * *

**A/N 2: Shameless self promotion department: I have a new story going, "My Boyfriend, the Joker". It's pretty funny, of course, I tend to crack myself up sometimes. Anyway, it's a quick read and if you have time, I'd love to get more feedback on it. Thanks!!**

**Seds**


	10. Some Baggage

**A/N: Hi kids! Just a short chapter, but I wanted to get something posted or it would take too long. Reviews always loved, thanks for reading!! **

* * *

For a moment, the Joker continued to lie in Bruce's arms, staring impassively at the man as he considered his words. Then, he twisted his lips into a scornful sneer, and shook his head.

"To the Wayne penthouse, home of fucking billionaire Bruce Wayne? I think..._not_."

"What do you mean?"

"_This_ is _my_ place. I'm not going anywhere, big guy."

"Don't be stupid. I'm inviting you to my home..."

"Oh, that was an invitation? 'Cause it sounded a _teeeny _bit like an order."

"You like it when I order you around." Bruce said, smiling, pulling him in and clasping him tighter against his body. The Joker wasn't sure if that was affection, or if he was preparing to take him into captivity.

"Yeah, when you want to fuck me it's one thing, but this is different. If you think I'm going to your place, you're crazy."

"Why?"

"Jeeze, do you think I'm an idiot? You're going to lock me up until you can ease your guilty conscience and take me back to the loony bin..."

"No, that's not what I intend to have happen at all. I can't leave you here, but I don't want you back in the asylum any more than you want to be there."

"Ooo, so, I'll be free to come and go as I please, right?"

"Uh, no...not exactly...."

"Well, which is it, Bats? You can't have it both ways. Either I'm your houseguest, or I'm your prisoner, and I _won't _be that."

"I'm just trying to keep you safe until I can figure out some way to get you psychiatric treatment without sending you back to Arkham."

"I told you, I'm taking the damn pills..."

"What happens when you run out?"

"There are pharmacies all over the place! I can always get more..."

"By breaking in?"

"Yeah...."

"See, that's the problem, I can't have you doing things like that..."

The Joker twisted out of his lover's arms, reached down, pulled out a pistol from under the mattress, and leveled it at Bruce as he pivoted to sit at the foot of the bed. Bruce was amused to note he still had on his t-shirt, but nothing else.

"You'd be a lot more threatening with your pants on, you know," Bruce commented.

"Ha ha, I'm not trying to threaten you, I'm just letting you know how serious I am. I won't be locked up again, Bats...I'm just sayin'." Frowning, he stood and backed away from the bed, picking up his trousers and underwear with his free hand as he went.

"I think you better go now, Batsy. It's been fun and all, but I need some 'me' time." He laid the gun on the couch and hastily slipped into his clothes. Bruce sat up, rubbing his hand across his forehead tiredly.

"I can't leave you here, Jack."

"Why not? I've been a really good boy, remember? No messy bodies to clean up, no explosions...."

"I'm not going to argue with you about this, either you come home with me or I _will_ take you back to Arkham."

"You really drive me nuts, you know that? You're so worried I'll lose what's left of my mind and wreak havoc, but you're not the least concerned that I'm holding a loaded gun on you?" The Joker again trained the weapon on the man in his bed and tilted his head in exasperation.

"I don't think you'll shoot me." Bruce got out of the bed and Jack was treated to the sight of his powerful, naked body as he began to pick through the pile of clothes laying on the floor. Besides the bat suit, he had underwear and a t-shirt, which he donned, but only the Kevlar leggings, no street clothes.

"Do you have some jeans I could borrow?" he asked Jack.

"Yeah, they're not gonna fit ya, though."

"You're not much shorter than me."

"Yeah, but I'm skinnier."

"Calling me fat?"

"No, gorgeous, you're just _wider..._all those muscles, I suppose."

"Let's see what we've got here...." Bruce began poking around in the old beat-up chest of drawers that contained the Joker's few possessions. He found a pair of jeans and slipped them on. As Jack had predicted, they weren't a bad fit length-wise, but gaped an inch or so when Bruce tried to button them.

"Here...." Jack stuck the gun in the back of his pants and went to help Bruce close up the jeans Between the two of them, they were met with success and Jack stood back to admire the effect.

"You're such a damn dreamboat. Now, why hasn't some lucky girl ever gotten you to walk down the aisle with her, again?" the Joker smirked.

"Shut up. So, are you going like that, or do you want to bring anything with you?"

"I said, I'm not going..."

"Yes. You. _Are_." Bruce stood almost toe-to-toe with his enemy/lover and stared steadily into his eyes. The Joker stared back for a moment, then reached behind him for the weapon, but Bruce easily twisted his arm around and forced him to his knees, quickly disarming him.

"Aw, lemme up, He-Man, I wasn't gonna hurt ya..."

"You were about to pull a gun on me...again."

"It's not even loaded...."

"Oh, sure..." Bruce put the muzzle of the pistol to the Joker's temple. It was hard and cold against his skin and a pleasurable shiver ran through the blond.

"Should I test that statement?" asked Bruce in a low voice.

The Joker stared back up at him and grinned evilly.

"Go ahead."

They remained fixed in time, and for a moment, Bruce actually considered pulling the trigger, he wasn't sure why. Instead he abruptly removed the gun from the slighter man's temple and shot into the old chest of drawers. A perfect round hole penetrated the second drawer. Bruce curved his lips into a sneer of disgust.

"Fucking liar," he spat, hauling the Joker to his feet.

"Well, how do you like that, I thought it was empty," he marveled, innocently.

"Do you have a bag, or shall we just go?" Bruce's hand gripped the Joker's upper arm painfully, not that the blond minded. But he knew further refusal would escalate beyond the point of friendly debate, and he really didn't have the fire inside him to go to battle with the man whose cock he had just enjoyed having pumping away inside him not half an hour ago.

"Ok, ok, let me get a few things." The Joker shook off Bruce's hand, resignedly went to his dresser and began stuffing clothes into an empty trash bag. Bruce emptied the gun of the other five bullets it contained, and watched his lover's progress as he moved around the room collecting his things.

"Classy," Bruce commented on his choice of luggage.

"Hey, I'm a man of simple tastes. Another reason I'm not looking forward to the palatial Wayne penthouse."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, it's just a house. With electricity. And...plumbing."

"Ah, see? Spoiled, that's what you are. You need to simplify, Batsy, just the essential things in life are enough. Gunpowder, cold steel....lube..." Jack cast a dazzling grin at Bruce, causing him to stop to impulsively pull Jack into his arms and kiss him deeply.

"If you fuck with me in my home, I'll beat you to a pulp," he warned seriously into his lover's ear.

Jack bit his neck in response and retorted, "If you try to keep me against my will, I'll kill you," in an equally serious tone. Bruce pulled back to look him in the eye.

"You'll have the run of the house, and I'll get you anything you want, all you have to do is ask. But I'll be monitoring phone calls, there are security cameras, and leaving without telling me exactly where you're going and when you'll be back will get you locked up so fast...."

The Joker struggled in his arms, but Bruce held him tightly, and in moment he gave up.

"Ok, fair enough. For now." he acquiesced in defeat.

"Done?" asked Bruce.

"Done."

"Why should I believe you?" asked Bruce wearily.

"I'm a man of my word...don't worry, Bats...it'll be fine. Just don't let me get too bored, you know?" the Joker reminded him helpfully.

"Well, I can't sit around entertaining you all day."

"Just keep me entertained at night, and I'll figure out something for the days..."

"Slut."

"Asshole."

They grinned at each other and Bruce rolled his eyes before giving him a playful shove out the door.


	11. Welcome to My World

**A/N: As always, so sorry to take so long to update. Thank you for all the reviews, and thank you for reading! **

*** * ***

Bruce threw his costume in the back of his vehicle, followed by the Joker's pathetic trash bag "luggage". Bruce thought it was interesting that the man who had robbed and stolen so much, so often, could fit everything of any importance to him in one half-filled garbage can liner.

The Joker slid into the passenger seat and glumly peered out the window as they traveled, his chin propped on his hand.

"What's the matter?" Bruce finally asked.

"Nothing. I'm thrilled. I'm on my way to being your little house pet until I fuck up enough for you to cart me back to the nut house. No pressure, though."

"I'm sorry you feel that way. Shall we cut to the chase--I can drop you by Arkham right now, since you're so sure that's where you'll end up."

The Joker didn't respond, just rolled his eyes. They rode in silence until they arrived at the penthouse and Bruce drove the car into the underground garage.

Jack looked around the large enclosure as he unfolded himself from the car. Bruce handed him his bag, and directed him to the elevator that would lead to Bruce's penthouse. They stepped out of the elevator, and walked through a passageway that opened into Bruce's bedroom.

"Here we are. Home sweet home." Bruce watched the Joker's face, trying to gauge his reaction, but he did nothing but look around for a place to put his trash bag. He finally looked questioningly at Bruce.

"Over here." Bruce opened his large, walk-in closet and gestured for Jack to put the bag inside.

Finally, a grunt of derision from the Joker.

"Oh, you slay me. Your damn clothes closet's bigger than the entire house I grew up in."

Bruce shook his head. "Yes, ok, I have money. I'm not apologizing for it. I try to be responsible with it; to use it for good. At least I never robbed or extorted or killed to get it."

Jack just laughed.

"Well, money's nice to have, Brucie! I really don't hold it against you. I'm just trying to make you see how_ pathetic_ it is that you're so full of _guilt_ about it."

"I'm not 'full of guilt,'" Bruce protested.

"Oh, sure you are! Look what you're doing with me. Here I was, a perfectly happy little criminal that _you_ could have been perfectly happy having some mindless sex with on occasion, and everything would have been just fine. But no. First you have to be the big, mean vigilante, hauling me off to the nut hatch, uncaringly preventing me from flourishing in my natural habitat." The Joker began walking around the large room, examining his surroundings.

"Then, you felt kind of guilty about the Arkham Nazis constantly running electric currents through my brain and beating the shit out of me, so you had to start throwing money at 'em to get them to actually do their jobs and treat me. And now that I've been so very ungrateful as to escape all that fun, you want to keep me safely imprisoned in your palace until you can figure out what the hell to do with me. A lot of trouble to go through just to get a decent fuck."

"First of all, you were not 'happy', you were on the verge of suicide. Secondly, places like Arkham will always degenerate into corrupt hellholes without outside intervention. And, third, I honestly don't think that the only reason I'm doing all of this is because of sex, and frankly, I'm a little hurt that you _do."_

"Aw, did I hurt your itty-bitty feelings, big guy? Hey, I didn't mean to. No, I _didn't _I'm just _helping _you, trying to get you to understand--" He had taken to gesticulating for emphasis.

"Oh, stop it!" Bruce interrupted. "You're playing mind games with me and I'm really not up to speed right now, so it's not fair. How about you just make yourself at home while I take a shower and get ready to go to work?"

"Well, wait a minute, do I get a tour? Or am I just confined to this one room? Oh, and aren't you going to introduce me to your butler guy, what's his name? Alfred?" Jack looked expectantly at his host.

"I think we'll save all that excitement for a little later on. I have to sort of..._build up _to explaining..._you_...to Alfred. You stay in this room, yes, _this ONE __room_," he emphasized as his mercurial houseguest tentatively tried the door handle. "There's cable television, DVDs, CDs, books, magazines....you should be able to entertain yourself for a couple of hours while I attend a meeting.."

"Great, so I guess I can just starve, here in this land of plenty?"

Bruce sighed. It was like having an exotic animal unceremoniously dumped in his penthouse without proper feed or habitat supplies.

"I'll bring some food up before I leave...."

"How about some booze? I'm _much _more docile when I'm drunk," the Joker offered helpfully, as he now began poking around in drawers as if seeking out Bruce's hidden stash. He began actually pulling out clothes carelessly and not bothering to push the drawers back in. Bruce watched wearily as his impeccably folded underwear and socks were turned into a silk and fine cotton wreck.

"Why do I doubt that? And, no, _no booze_. It doesn't mix well with your medications, as you very well know." Bruce strode over to the inquisitive man and carefully pulled him away from his dresser drawer.

"Look, I really don't care if you go through my things, but please don't make a mess. I'd like to come home to an orderly bedroom, not a mock-up of a crime scene."

"Yeah, whatever. Thought that's what you had a slave, I mean, _butler, _for." The Joker's eyes danced with mischief and his voice dripped with sarcasm. Bruce fought the urge to smack him.

"Alfred is not a...it's not Alfred's job to clean up after you, ok? Now, please, find something non-destructive to occupy yourself with and let me get ready for work."

The Joker sneered and rolled his eyes before throwing himself onto the king-sized bed.

"Ok, Brucie, you got it. How 'bout I pass out for a couple of hours? I'm beat."

"That would be great, if I actually believed you. But, I'll just be happy if you can contain yourself while I shower.

The Joker waved his hand dismissively, and tiredly turned over. Bruce watched him until he realized that his breathing had slowed and he was, possibly, really asleep. Bruce peered at him from a safe distance, shrugged, and went to clean up.

* * *

Bruce showered, shaved, and dressed, then returned to his bedroom to find the bed empty.

"Oh, shit," he thought. He looked hopefully around the room, but no Joker. He strode out the door and glanced up and down the hallway. Nothing.

_"Shit_," said Bruce between gritted teeth.

Just then, the elevator opened and the Joker came strolling out, carrying a plate with a sandwich on it and a glass of milk. He grinned cheerfully at Bruce.

"Hey, pal, sorry to disappear on ya like that, but I couldn't sleep on an empty stomach, so--hope you don't mind!--I helped myself to a little snack." He gracefully swept past Bruce and settled into an easy chair, setting down his food and taking the remote in hand, snapped on the TV to find something to watch.

Bruce bit the side of his cheek in an attempt to tame his anger.

"Jack...did you happen to see Alfred?" he asked as if talking to a child.

"Uh...gray-haired guy? English accent?"

Sigh. "Yes..."

"Yeah, I spotted him. But you told me you wanted to handle the introductions, so I didn't say anything to him. And I'm sure he'll recover just fine, once he regains consciousness..."

"_What??!" _Bruce was ready to leap forward to strangle the man.

The Joker collapsed into laughter.

"Oh...you should see your face! Oh, you kill me! You don't have one ounce of faith in me, do you?" Jack's humor quickly dissolved into a cynical glare.

"Answer me right now, did you..."

"No, I didn't hurt him! I just saw him at a distance, talking on the phone. But, boy, were you ready to believe I put him in a coma or something..."

Bruce stared at him for a moment. Of course, he was right. But, he was beginning to think this wasn't going to work out, after all.

"Ok. I'm...sorry. But, you have to admit--I might have a few good reasons not to trust you."

They glared at each other for a long moment. Jack finally shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess so. Maybe I shouldn't try to be such a funny guy, huh?" he asked, his face relaxing into a better humor.

"That would...help," Bruce agreed. "And, I'll try not to jump to conclusions. But, you did do exactly what I asked you _not _to do--you left without letting me know what you were up to."

"Ooo, I got myself a sandwich! Lock me up, I'm out of control!" the Joker sneered irritably.

Bruce knelt in front of him and gently brushed a thick strand of blond hair out of his eyes.

"I want this to work out, Jack. I'll do whatever it takes. But you have to try. You really do have to try."

Jack stared resentfully at him for a moment, then broke into a good-natured smile. The dark-haired man really _was_ cute, especially when he was exasperated.

"Ok, Bruce, you're right. I'm just being a jerk, it's kind of second nature to me...but, yeah, I'll try to act right. I'll stay in here while you're gone, don't worry."

Bruce felt a combination of hope and dread, but decided to take him at his word. After all, there _were _security cameras....

"Ok...well, I'm out of here as soon as I find my shoes..."

"Yeah, let me hit the head before you go," said Jack. He headed for the bathroom, and in a moment, Bruce heard a wail of dismay:

"_Shit, _Bruce, the fucking bathroom's bigger than my _whole apartment!" _

Bruce grinned and when the Joker came out, zipping up his pants and shaking his head in disgust, Bruce pulled him into his arms and kissed him.

"Welcome to my world, Joker."

* * *

Bruce headed downstairs to find Alfred. He couldn't leave him there alone, unknowing, in the house with a former homicidal maniac possibly roaming free.

"Alfred...may I talk to you for a moment?" Bruce called. He didn't know what, exactly, he was going to say, he'd just have to wing it....

"Of course, sir, what is it?"

"Uh...well, I wanted to let you know that we have a...houseguest."

"Is that right, sir?"

"Yes...and, well, there are special circumstances...."

"Indeed?"

"Uh-huh. It's...it's the _Joker, _Alfred." Bruce couldn't sugar-coat it, better to just throw all the cards on the table.

"Ah. That was the young man with the scars I noticed scrabbling around in the kitchen, then?"

"Oh...you saw him."

"Yes, sir. None too subtle, that one, sir."

"Right. Well, he's supposed to stay upstairs. Don't bother trying to look after him, he's fine. In fact, it'd be better if you'd just avoid him, if possible. I'd like to sort of _gradually_ introduce the two of you...."

"Master Wayne, may I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Wasn't the Joker confined to a mental institution?"

"Uh...yes."

"I see. So, somehow he's come to take up residence--here?"

"Uh-huh."

"Makes perfect sense, sir, just wanted to clarify." Alfred offered Bruce a sarcastic rise of an eyebrow.

"I _will _sit down and explain everything later, right now I have a meeting to get to. In the meantime, just check the security cams occasionally and keep everything in lock-down mode once I leave. If anything--worrisome happens, just call the police. He knows he's to stay in the room, and he shouldn't need anything until I get back."

"Very good, sir. I'll set up camp in the surveillance room."

"Probably a good idea. I'll see you later."

Bruce left for his meeting.

* * *

Alone, the Joker ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He didn't know why Bruce bothered. He was a nice guy and Jack didn't want to see him hurt, but, he was definitely betting on the wrong horse.

What the hell did he expect to get out of this mess, anyway? Jack's undying love and devotion? Sorry, those things were in short supply...all he, Joker, ever wanted from Bruce was a good fuck and maybe a laugh or two. He didn't expect to end up being incarcerated in the fucking Wayne penthouse suite...not his style, not his style at all. Besides, he had things to do, and Brucie's obsessive/compulsive need to control him would definitely throw a monkey wrench into his activities. It's not like Wayne could do anything about the situation, anyway.

Yeah, it would be better to just leave now and let the chips fall where they may.

He'd do 'em both a favor, save everyone a lot of trouble. But...he was so tired. He just wanted to sleep for a while. And, he really did want to have a little roll in the hay with Bruce, here in these classy accommodations, just once. Jeeze, maybe he'd loosen up a little in his own bed, on his own turf. So...what the hell. Another day wouldn't matter one way or the other.

Sure, he'd hang around a while. He'd wait for His Honor to come home, welcome him like a good little housewife, or galley slave, or whatever the hell role Bruce envisioned him playing for him. Ask him how his day was, rub his tense shoulders, suck his cock, give him some sex...whatever he wanted, really.

In fact, he could handle it for a_ few_ days. Pay Bruce back for his kindness, just a little bit. Then, he'd scram. Bruce'd never know what hit him.

* * *

It was difficult for Bruce to concentrate during the meeting. His thoughts kept wandering back to Jack, making him alternately feel a tightening in his stomach from tension, and a tightening in his crotch from excitement. The thought of returning home and finding Jack waiting for him...if he really was waiting for him, and not skulking around, out somewhere on the streets of Gotham. He had to restrain himself from text-messaging Alfred every five minutes to see if Jack was staying put.

As much as he had hated seeing Jack in Arkham, at least he never had to worry about where the hell he was.

In spite of his preoccupation, Bruce managed to pull himself together long enough to make an eloquent statement regarding the pull-out of Wayne Enterprises' financial support for certain charities that were being funded by the arms manufacturers that were under suspicion by the FBI. Bruce delegated the assignment of PR duties and research into the legitimacy of the affected causes to Lucius Fox, and the meeting was over.

Gratefully, Bruce hurried home.

* * *

Jack was sound asleep on Bruce's bed, lying on his side, embracing a feather pillow as though it were a lover. Bruce smiled, first in relief, then in a swell of lust. The blond curls fell around the handsome, scarred face, his t-shirt had ridden up enough to reveal his bare stomach, and Bruce liked seeing him so at peace, calm, almost vulnerable...he took off his jacket, tie, and shoes, and lay down next to Jack. He awoke, and peered sleepily at his host, giving him a crooked smile.

"You're here...miss me?" he asked softly.

"Yes...come here," said Bruce. Jack scooted over to him and settled into his arms, and Bruce gave him a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Jack eagerly returned it, and for a long moment they simply took pleasure in their bodies being cuddled against each other. Bruce ran his hand over Jack's back, and began nibbling at the curve of his neck.

"Aw, Bruce, you don't have to romance me. Just let me get my pants off and you can have at it, or would you rather have a blow job for starters?" he asked genially.

"Jack...just shut up. I happen to like romancing you, at least a little bit."

"Oh, yeah? Well...ok, then. You want me to play hard to get or something, make it interesting?" Jack offered.

"NO! I just want you to...like being with me. I think that's interesting enough, at this point. Don't you?"

"Well...sure, I guess! Uh...so what, more kissing?"

Bruce gave him a look.

"If it's not inconveniencing you too much?"

"No, go ahead."

Bruce went back to ravishing Jack's warm mouth, but noticed that Jack wasn't exactly relaxing into it.

"What's wrong?" Bruce asked, the soul of patience.

"Nothing! It's just..."

"What?"

"Well...this is all too perfect, somehow..." Jack surveyed the room critically.

"Oh, yes, a roof over your head, climate control, a clean bed, access to hot water and soap...I can see how that would kill the mood for you," Bruce said dryly.

"Well, yeah! I mean, I'm used to doing this stuff in back alleys and mental institutions, not the posh quarters of a billionaire's penthouse. I don't know...maybe you oughta smack me around a little, first, huh?" Jack asked, seriously.

"No." said Bruce firmly.

"Why not?"

"Because!" Bruce flung himself back onto the bed in exasperation. This was definitely not going to work, definitely.

"Because why?"

"Because, I'm not into inflicting pain on someone I want to be close to..."

"You don't seem to mind when you're Batman..."

Bruce sat up and looked into the Joker's dark eyes.

"Is _that_ what you want? You want it to be like that again? Me pursuing you, beating you, taking you like an animal?"

"_Yeah! _Now you're getting it!" The Joker exclaimed, pleased.

"Well, forget it! I'm Batman when I'm fighting criminals, and I was under the impression that you were at least _somewhat_ recovered from that period in your life. I don't want it to be that way anymore. I just want to be with you--Jack. Not the Joker."

Jack stared at him for a long moment. Now _he_ fell back onto the bed, hopelessly.

"So, to get what I want, I'd have to give up what I've got," he stated flatly.

"I suppose. You've got _me_--Bruce. Batman...Batman's your fantasy. I don't know what to do about that."

They both lay there quietly, the muffled sounds of the city humming in the background. Finally, Bruce sat up, and rolled over onto Jack and looked him in the eye.

"Can't you give me a chance?" he said softly.

"Yeah...ok. Let's try it your way, sissy boy," Jack grinned at him playfully.

"Who the hell are you calling a sissy?" Bruce growled, and in short order, he had Jack's clothes off, and then soon after was roughly pounding away inside him, much to Jack's immense pleasure.

Maybe there was a chance this _was _going to work, after all, they both thought.


	12. Adjustments

**A/N: As always, I am so sorry to take so long to update, please forgive me. Thank you so much for reviewing!! **

* * *

The first days of the Joker's residency in the Wayne penthouse passed smoothly enough. Bruce eventually worked up the courage to take him downstairs to meet Alfred; to his surprise and pleasure, Jack was relatively polite and friendly towards the older man. Alfred was his usual self, betraying no trace of concern and treating the unpredictable criminal with at least superficial good will and respect.

Bruce took him on a tour of the penthouse--although, not the Bat Cave--ending in his home office, where he showed him the plans, well underway, for the rebuilding of Wayne Manor. Jack was interested, obviously familiar with reading blueprints, and asked some very perceptive questions about the building, it's flow and structure, which Bruce took pride in answering to his satisfaction, and for a brief time, the two were more like a pair of old friends, equals, rather than a captor and his prisoner. Bruce liked that very much.

Bruce had already decided that Batman needed to take a week off; he couldn't take a chance on disrupting what appeared to be turning into a fairly calm transition for the Joker, and he didn't need to place anymore stress on himself at this time, plus things had been wonderfully quiet in the city for the last several days. As Jack, seated in the desk chair, mulled over the plans with his host standing next to him, Bruce decided to tell him that he would be staying at home with him for the next few nights.

"Really, Brucie? You're gonna hang out with _me _instead of ferreting out vicious gangs of jay walkers and purse snatchers?" he asked, amused, but seemingly pleased.

"Um-hm."

"Well...that's peachy," Jack mused. "But...."

"But, what?"

"Uh...aren't ya supposed to, you know, protect the city and all that? Be the Dark Knight? I don't want to interfere...I mean, what if the litterbugs decide to take over the city? Who'll be there to stop 'em?"

"I think the sanitation department can handle it."

They chuckled for a moment, then Jack cast a frown of concern at his host.

"No, really, Bats, are you sure? Maybe you should...."

"Everything's fine right now. I can afford to stay in for a little while, I think."

"Oh. Ok." He actually sounded disappointed.

_"What?" _asked Bruce in mild exasperation.

"Nothing. I just thought...."

"Yes?"

"I thought maybe I could go with you...you know, like the night I _saved your life? _Remember? Now, _that_ was a fun night. I'd like to do that again. How about it, hm?"

"No! You are NEVER going out with Batman--_ever, _do you understand? And, if you'll recall, I could have been killed that night...."

"I _know!_ That's what made it so _exciting!"_ The Joker giggled with the pleasure of the memory.

"Well, I hate to tell you this, but I'm not planning to allow a repeat of that little incident just to keep you occupied. And, you're not leaving this building, _period_, much less going out on patrol with me. _Do you understand?" _Bruce bent down to stare intently into Jack's eyes. The slighter man glared back for a while, then rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Fine! Ok, whatever you say, Bruce. I know my place, right here in your little maximum security luxury resort. But I _could_ help ya, if you'd just let me. You know, use my powers for good, not evil, and all that...."

"Uh-huh. A very kind offer, but no thanks. Just, please, do what I ask and _stay put_."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Once again, it becomes very obvious that you don't trust me...."

"I never said I did, did I?"

The former clown gave Bruce an exaggeratedly hurt look, then shrugged.

"True...I guess you're smarter than you look, huh?"

"I'm smarter than you think I am. Look, how about we go downstairs and play pool until dinner? Ok?" asked the dark-haired man, giving him a hug and pat on the shoulder, hoping to mollify his companion.

Jack made a show of pondering the suggestion. Then, magically dismissing his grumpy mood, he cheerfully accepted, and the two men headed off to the game room.

* * *

After dinner, they watched a movie in the den, each rather uncomfortably seated at opposite ends of the overstuffed leather couch. Bruce found himself wishing he could pull his lover over next to him, but the probability of Alfred coming in and seeing them like that deterred him. He didn't think Alfred was ready for that.

When Bruce noticed that Jack had slipped into a light doze, he grinned, moved over and smacked him on the back of the head, a little harder than he intended.

"Ow..." the Joker complained, startled and groggy. He rubbed his head and gave Bruce a look that suggested he was ready to go into fight mode....

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty, are you ready to go upstairs?" Bruce asked amiably.

"Oh...uh, yeah. Sorry, the meds...." He still looked a bit disoriented.

"That's ok, it's been a long day. I'm ready for a good night's sleep myself."

"How'd the movie end?" he asked, interested, as they roused themselves into standing positions and headed for Bruce's bedroom.

"Everybody dies," Bruce revealed.

"Cool!" Jack answered, cheered.

* * *

Both men were exhausted. They disrobed, crawled into bed, and after a perfunctory good-night kiss at Bruce's insistence, Jack scooted as far away as possible from his bedmate, leaving Bruce, disappointed, to turn over on his side with a pointed sigh, to go to sleep without further physical contact. He was too tired for sex, but he had hoped to be able to sleep with Jack close to him, not way over on the other side of the world....

Jack also sighed. It was a goddamn king-sized bed, what the hell did Bat-boy need to be so close to him for? It was annoying, and he didn't see the point, he'd be _asleep, _for God's sake, what difference did it make where he physically ended up? Sex was one thing, this namby-pamby cuddling crap was quite another...he'd break him of wanting it, if he had to use a damn crowbar....

They both fell asleep, each suffering their own variety of dissatisfaction.

Hours later, Bruce awoke at the sound of Jack's voice, muttering nonsense. He was still sound asleep on his side of the bed but he had slept so fitfully he'd wriggled out from under the covers. He was sleeping naked, covered only by a thin sheet over his midsection, his legs bare, and his pale, bony shoulder exposed, vulnerable. Bruce scooted over, reached out and laid his hand on him, and found he was ice cold. Tsking, he reached down for the blanket and pulled it up over his bedmate.

The movements disturbed Jack, and he shivered. "Cold," he whispered sleepily. "Well, genius, come over here then, I'll warm you up," said Bruce, suddenly filled with a swell of affection for the man, combined with lust and something like protectiveness.

Jack, too groggy to argue, obediently rolled over into his arms, snuggling up against him like a kid. Bruce brushed his lips over his forehead, and again gathered the covers around Jack's bare shoulders.

"Its' been a long time since anyone gave a shit whether I slept warm or not...." Jack murmured. He sleepily looked up at Bruce and grinned slowly. Bruce smiled back at him and kissed him. Feeling Bruce's member surge into an erection, Jack accommodatingly flipped over, his back against Bruce's chest, pulled up one leg, and offered Bruce his entrance.

"'Come on, Brucie, fuck me," he demanded playfully, wiggling his bottom suggestively against Bruce's hardness.

"Ok," Bruce agreed without a second thought, reaching for the lube.

"Don't bother, don't need it, just hurry up..." Jack hissed irritably.

"No, I don't like hurting you, just hold your horses a minute," said Bruce patiently, as he began to prepare his lover.

Jack rolled his eyes, but had to admit, having Bruce's slicked-up member slide smoothly into him did feel nice, rather than the rough, painful resistance he was accustomed to.

Bruce held him securely with one arm wrapped tightly around his waist. His other hand gave Jack's cock a firm caress followed by long strokes that brought the just-awakening erection to full attention. He then ran his hand up his partner's torso, brushed his fingertips over Jack's nipple, gently pinching and twisting it until he moaned in response.

Bruce nibbled on the chilled shoulder, moved upward, taking a moment to push a mop of tangled blond curls out of the way to find the tender skin on the back of Jack's neck, and he firmly bit into it, pulling the flesh, tasting him. Jack shivered and gave a deep, appreciative chuckle at his lover's commanding touch.

Bruce reached over to take Jack's chin in hand, gently forcing him to turn his head, craning his own neck far enough to master a long, loving kiss as he thrust deeply into the skinny blond's tight channel.

Jack took Bruce's hand and firmly placed it on his own erection, silently asking for further attention, which Bruce obligingly provided.

"How's that feel?" Bruce asked as he stroked him with tight, rapid movements.

"Too fucking good, I'm already coming--you bastard, this is too damn quick," he groaned as he flooded Bruce's hand with his creamy ejaculate.

After Jack's release, Bruce pushed him onto his stomach, and without pulling out, continued powerfully thrusting into him from behind, until he heard himself cry out in blinding orgasm.

Their fevered coupling finally complete, Bruce gathered his lover into his arms for a long, passionate goodnight kiss. The Joker submitted to it--he had already learned he had no choice, well, not if he didn't want to fire up an emotionally-charged verbal battle, which he was in no mood to do. He'd found that once Bruce had him wrapped in those strong, steely arms, there was no easy escape until he was done with him.

After a lengthy session of post-coital smooching, Bruce finally gave him an affectionate peck on his nose and smiled. "Goodnight, babe." he said softly, releasing his grip on the blond.

"'Night!..." the Joker gratefully responded and took the opportunity to hastily pull out of the embrace, roll over and scoot to the safety of his side of the bed.

Bruce stared after him. He couldn't understand it. Of all the things he had hoped for with having Jack share his bed throughout the night, it was that they could finally fall asleep in each other's arms, and that he could wake up with Jack snuggled against him, the two sharing their body heat in a kind of innocent intimacy that had nothing to do with sex.

But Jack wasn't having any of it.

In the dim light--the room was illuminated by the moon and the distant street lights of Gotham--Bruce looked over at the slight frame that supposedly shared his bed, but not quite, and felt sad. He knew he could scoot over and put his arm around Jack, but he had learned that would result in at the very least an annoyed grunt, and, more likely, an exasperated Jack, rolling out of bed in disgust and throwing himself on the chaise lounge to sleep alone.

Jack heard the loud, meaningful sigh. He could have ignored it. He _wanted _to ignore it. But...damn it, why was Bruce so..._needy_? Maybe he should get a puppy, a big one. Something warm and helpless to cuddle with...then maybe _he_ could get some sleep.

_"What?_" he finally asked in exasperation, after a second, pointed sigh.

"Nothing, forget it."

"Well, I can't sleep with you making noises all night. What's the matter?" Jack twisted around and propped up his head with one hand.

"Nothing! Go to sleep."

Jack narrowed his eyes at Bruce, but turned over again and took another shot at going back to sleep.

"It's just..."

Jack's eyes flew open and he was beginning to feel a murderous intent. Taking a deep breath, he wondered if he should pop a couple of his anti-anxiety meds real quick, before Gotham _permanently_ lost its Dark Knight.

"For God's sake, Bruce, what is _wrong?" _he asked.

"You never want to be close to me." he said simply.

"What the hell do you call what we've been doing for the last half hour, how much closer can you get than having your dick all the way up my ass? Isn't that enough?" he asked plaintively.

"It's not the same. I just...I like having you next to me when I sleep."

Jack rolled his eyes in frustration.

"But, I can't sleep like that! You move around too much, and you _breathe_ on me...."

Bruce knew Jack was a light sleeper, and his sensitivity to sound and touch were heightened by some of the meds he was taking. He tried to be understanding, but Jack was so uncompromising...

"Ok. Never mind. Good night." Bruce rolled over on his side and closed his eyes.

Jack was half sitting up and he stared over at his lover's dark, muscular form. He was so fucking beautiful, but such a pain in the ass. Yet, sweet, in his way. He deserved better...Jack irritably got up, shambled over to Bruce's side of the bed, and crouched down next to him, peering into his face until his eyes opened.

"Hey, dumb-ass. Look. Just because I don't want to be squished all night doesn't mean I don't, you know, _like_ you. I do, heh, obviously. It's just...you know, I've been sleeping alone in a hospital bed for the last year, and the only time someone touched me, it was to stick a needle in my arm or clamp an electrode on my brain. I just...need some time, you know? I know I'm an asshole, but it's not because...."

"I know!" Bruce stuck his hand out from under the covers and caressed his lover's scarred face. "I know. I'm expecting way too much from you. I just...I'm just glad you're here, ok?" Bruce's voice was heavy with emotion and Jack smiled at him encouragingly before speaking.

"It won't always be like this, I promise. Just give me some time, ok? I'm trying to..." he tried to explain.

"I know. I'm sorry, you need to get some sleep, good night." Bruce reached out and gave Jack a gentle kiss, lay back and shut his eyes.

Jack stared at him a minute, ran his hand over Bruce's tousled dark hair, down to his smooth cheek, then stood and returned to his side of the bed.

"Fucking 'relationship'..." he muttered as he climbed back into bed, but he had a smile on his face as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *


	13. Give and Take

**A/N: Hey there, I finally got this chapter done! In this one, we struggle through a little plot development, and Bruce is in for a sexy surprise....please let me know your thoughts (a subtle plea for reviews! Ha ha.) By the way, in case you're getting tired of the naughty bits, the next chapter will have some non-sexy action...thanks, everyone, for reading and especially for reviewing!**

**Seds**

* * *

In the largest, most luxurious corner office on the top of Wayne Tower, the one with the best view and the full bar, Bruce Wayne sat slumped at his desk. He was listlessly scrolling through the unending column of emails that had been steadily cropping up over the course of the last week, blissfully unnoticed by their recipient, while at the same time ruining his posture, his phone jammed against his ear as he caught up on voice mail.

Bruce had formally taken a week off from being Batman, but he had only mentally taken a week off from being Bruce Wayne. The world of commerce had definitely not ground to a halt just because the handsome young billionaire was enjoying having an escaped mental patient in his home after a year of nothing but furtive visits to the asylum and longing daydreams.

It had been far too pleasant finally waking up with Jack to bother going out into the cold morning air of Gotham and heading to his office. Bruce had quickly discovered that, although Jack was apparently determined to spurn his affection in the dark, he was perversely interested in getting as close to him as possible in those first drowsy moments of dawn....

He would scramble over next to a soundly sleeping Bruce and, using his hands or his mouth or his body, seductively bring his partner to consciousness in such a way that they were soon making love, slowly and sleepily at first, then building to a fever pitch, after which they would either drowsily fall back to sleep, or end up in a lively argument such as this one, on their first morning together at Bruce's place:

"Hey, Bruce, get Jeeves to bring us some breakfast, will ya? I'm in the mood for some bacon and eggs, toast, and, uh, oh yeah, maybe waffles? Or, a bear claw. Or...oh, how about a blueberry muffin? What do _you _like, big guy? I can negotiate on the sweet stuff." The Joker was lounging comfortably, lying on his back, using Bruce's chest as a pillow.

Bruce had sighed, gathering his fortitude to explain how things were to a man who had very little concern for...how things were. He stopped playing with the Joker's hair and began the recitation.

"In the first place, it's _Alfred_, not Jeeves--I want you to start showing some respect for him. In the second place, I only very occasionally ask him to bring breakfast up, I don't expect him to wait on me--or _you_--hand and foot. In the third place, I haven't yet explained to Alfred why I haven't asked him to freshen up the guest room and I'm not really prepared to have him come up to find us like...this. And, finally, I don't eat like that anymore. The best you can hope for is oatmeal and fresh fruit, and we'll have to go downstairs to get that."

The Joker had sat up and stared at him in consternation.

"You mean to tell me you've got dough comin' out the wazoo and I can't get a lousy cup of coffee in bed? What's the _point?"_

And so on.

Yes, it had also been way too much fun spending those first days discovering more about the Joker's intelligence, humor, and wonderfully bizarre personality than to bother donning a sharp Italian-made suit so that Bruce could drag himself into the office on a warm Gotham afternoon.

The two had quickly taken to reading the paper together, playing chess or pool for hours, talking about books, music and movies, arguing over same, as well as watching the vast variety of inane TV shows the Joker was addicted to. He appreciated everything from ancient reruns of situation comedies and westerns to Saturday morning cartoons, to cheap horror and sci-fi nonsense. Bruce had always studiously avoided such brain-rotting fare, even as a child, and was both amused and slightly disturbed to find the Joker taking them all quite seriously.

"No, no, no, no, Brucie, you're not keeping an open mind. The episode where Harpo Marx guests on 'I Love Lucy' is sheer genius...just watch!"

"Sheer waste of time, if you ask me," Bruce intoned over his Wall Street Journal, but he was carefully keeping an eye on the TV screen when he thought Jack wasn't looking. His crafty nonchalance was betrayed when both men broke into laughter following the "mirror" gag.

"Ha ha, see, you enjoyed that!" chortled Jack triumphantly.

"Ok, ok, I'll give you that, it _was_ pretty funny. But, it's still amazing to me that someone as intelligent as you are considers this nonsense to be of any merit whatsoever."

"Oh, lighten up, Bat-brain. You're gonna discover your inner clown _one_ of these days, and I'm gonna help you."

"Gee, thanks."

"No problem."

But even the pleasure of his new-found domestic bliss couldn't keep Bruce away from the office for _very_ long, and now he found himself on the phone to Rachel, returning her slightly petulant voice mail.

"Hello, Rachel Dawes here."

"Hi Rach, it's Bruce."

"Well, it's about time! I thought you'd fallen off the face of the earth."

"No, no, I've just been...taking a little time for myself. But I'm back now, and completely snowed under...."

"Yeah, I know how it is getting back after taking some time off. Actually, I'm proud of you, you're the one who never takes a break."

"Well, I'm going to try to change that, at least a little. There's definitely more to life than work...."

"Ooo, Bruce! Sounds like you're having some romance in your life, huh?"

Bruce hastily cast about in his mind for another plausible explanation.

"Hardly that! I've just...rekindled my interest in, uh, the arts, I'm considering investing in a media company, you know, television, film, things like that..." Bruce rolled his eyes at the lameness of his story.

"Oh. Well, that's...interesting, sounds...relaxing."

"Mmm...how have _you_ been?"

"Aughhh, you wouldn't believe everything that's been happening around here. We could do an entire episode of "World's Dumbest Criminals" right here in Gotham."

"Jim Gordon's boys been busy, huh?" he asked, somewhat amused.

"Oh, yes. It's like Gotham's miscreants don't know how to commit a proper crime anymore. Speaking of which, has there been any progress on the Joker case?"

"No, nothing that I'm aware of," Bruce responded somewhat curtly.

"Oh, sorry. I know that's a sore subject for you."

Bruce was glad Rachel couldn't see his grin. Jack took great delight in complaining about being 'sore' from his and Bruce's adventures in bed. Yet, somehow he never seemed reluctant to participate....

"Well, I hate to say 'I told you so', but, dammit, I told you so! I knew that maniac would end up double-crossing the one person in Gotham willing to give him a chance, and boy, did he ever."

"Yes...well, as long as he's not causing mayhem, I guess I'm willing to ignore the situation for the time being. If, as you say, all the criminals are floundering around without his expertise to guide them, then that's not so bad."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, who knows what he's up to! Gotham could be at the greatest risk it's ever faced! Aren't you even a little bit concerned?"

"Of course! I'm just saying, it's been, you know, quiet for a while. Maybe he's left town or something."

"Looking for a new target, hm?"

"Who knows? Look, Rach, I've got a mountain of work to do, would you mind...."

"Yes, yes, I know, you're swamped...hey, maybe we can go to lunch sometime. Or, you could come for dinner! Harvey would love to see you...."

"Sure, honey, we'll do something. I'll give you a call."

"Ok, well, you better. Talk to you later."

"Bye."

Bruce hung up and stared thoughtfully at his desk. So, without the Joker to set a bad example and escalate the level of criminal activity over the last year or so, things had become fairly dull and routine for the police department. It did seem odd that Jack had apparently lost all interest in playing cat and mouse with the cops.

But, Bruce had been carefully monitoring the household computer system, the telephone, and the security cameras and had not been able to detect any sign of illicit mischief from his mercurial house guest.

Alfred gave him a complete report whenever Bruce had to be out, and apparently, the only odd behavior Jack ever exhibited was to restlessly roam around the house on occasion before retreating to Bruce's bedroom, where Bruce had discreetly installed a camera system which only he had control of or access to. He had briefly thought of videotaping his and Jack's romantic activities, but decided he wouldn't stoop to that. He only wanted to be sure the Joker was behaving properly, or at least that he was staying _put, _in Bruce's absence.

He _had _learned that Jack conked out every afternoon around two or three o'clock, due to the effect of his medications, and stayed asleep for at least two hours. He had made it a habit to check the cameras during the Joker's down time, at first because he genuinely did not trust him, then, later, because it had become a routine. The Joker slept soundly at those times and Bruce often had to roust him into consciousness so that he would be alert enough to come down for dinner.

Try as he might, Bruce could find no fault with the Joker's behavior, other than a lot of recreational complaining, outrageous demands (Bruce was willing to indulge Jack's interests in just about anything, but he had to be careful not to let him order materials over the Internet that could be used in making explosive devices. It was amazing the uses the Joker could find for seemingly the most innocuous items).

He excelled at mess-making, and enjoyed peppering Bruce with veiled insults that sometimes didn't hit the billionaire's consciousness until he had already gone into the office. But he could live with that. He just had to be sure that Jack was maintaining his own well-being, while at the same time not compromising the safety and security of Gotham City. A tall order, but one that was apparently coming along rather well....

* * *

A kind of routine emerged. Bruce went to work; Batman went out as necessary. The Joker mightily complained of boredom and neglect; but in reality he was grateful for having time to get a handle on his life in a calm, structured environment--without the clinical constraints of living in an asylum.

He would never admit it to Bruce, but, for the most part...he was finding himself feeling..._happy. _It was almost unbelievable to him, but he was strangely content. He liked it when Bruce was at home, but he kind of liked being by himself, too. He was making it work, much to his own surprise, and he gradually gave up on the idea of leaving any time soon....

* * *

And, Bruce did his best to keep things interesting for his "guest".

One night, the Joker was quietly reading on the couch. Bruce snuck in, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, turned him around and planted a deep kiss on his mouth, causing the unpredictable mental patient to struggle in an attempt at bashing his loving assailant over the head with his book. Bruce managed to disarm him, and laughing heartily, wrestled him down so that he could easily straddle him.

"Ya know, Bats, one of these days you're going to regret making a move like that on me..." the Joker warned from his defensive position, not entirely kidding.

"Yeah, but it's so much fun in the meantime," Bruce rejoined, leaning down to give him another kiss. This time, Jack's arms went around him and he kissed back, but Bruce could feel the adrenaline-induced tension lingering in Jack's taut body. For a fleeting moment, he felt bad for having startled him.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were heavily medicated enough to handle surprise attacks?"

"I'm just telling ya, I'm beginning to be inclined to slip a steak knife in my pocket when yer not looking. If this keeps up...."

"Ok, ok, I'll stop. I just like...playing with you," Bruce confessed.

"Oh, well, there's other ways to do that without you ending up with a shiv jammed in your throat..."

"Well, maybe we should head upstairs so you can show me--without giving Alfred a heart attack."

"Wouldn't want _that_...." Jack agreed sarcastically.

"Hey, I thought you liked him."

"Oh, I do. I'm just not used to having Granddad hangin' around when I want to get laid."

"Be _nice...."_

"Yeah, I'll do that...when we get upstairs!"

* * *

The pair sauntered up to the bedroom in order to take care of their lustful urges, but things didn't go quite the way Bruce expected. After undressing, he found himself on his back with the Joker on top on top of him, wedging his erection between Bruce's legs, apparently intent on doing something the brunet was utterly unprepared for.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Heh heh, I've noticed you've been a little too _serious _lately, Brucie. You're like a coiled spring!But that's all right because Doctor J's got a treatment in store for you, I think you'll feel much better once it's done...now, just relax, this won't hurt a bit, at least not if I do it right...." Jack was industriously attempting to push Bruce's legs up to his shoulders....

"Get off of me," ordered a non-too pleased Bruce.

"Uh-uh. Sorry, gorgeous, it's time for the ol' switcheroo, and I'd suggest you go along with it because I'm sure you don't want to hurt my feelings, right? Aaand...you don't want me to just, ya know, _hurt _you..."

"No, thanks, not interested. Now, get _off." _With that, Bruce easily dispatched his suitor with a hard shove, depositing him onto the bed, flat on his back.

"Ok, obviously I haven't explained myself well enough," reasoned the Joker as he pulled himself up and attempted to reclaim his position. "Let me go over some of the finer points of the procedure, I'm just going to insert my..."

"I get the idea, Joker, and it's not happening, so just forget it!"

"Oh, really. So, that's how it is. No give and take in this relationship, no sir. Would you mind explaining to me how come _I'm_ the one on the bottom all the time? I mean, who made _that _rule? You've fucked me, oh, about nine hundred million times; I really think, in the spirit of fairness, that now it's my turn, just this once at least..."

"You're on the bottom because you _like_ it, you insane little faggot," Bruce commented tiredly.

"I _do_ like it, but that's not _all_ I like, and by the way, if you want to trade insults, it takes one to know one, asshole...."

"Getting sodomized by you is _not_ my idea of a good time, sorry."

"Well, who do you _want_ to get sodomized by? Come on, Bruce, are you seriously expecting me to believe it's never crossed your mind? You've never once wondered what it would be like to..."

"NO! I'm perfectly content with things the way they are, now come here and..."

"Oh, no you don't. I'm not giving it up unless you try being on the receiving end for a change--just once!"

They stared at each other defiantly, both of their amorous intentions temporarily replaced by the sheer struggle for domination. Bruce finally broke the tense silence.

"Ok, here's my offer. If you can keep me pinned down for the count of three--that's a full count, you know, one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, like that--then, well, ok, I'll give it a...try."

"You're not a team player, Bats. You kind of outweigh me, how the hell am I supposed to..."

"That's my offer, take it or leave it...."

"Fine. I'll see what I can do." The Joker calmly leaned over, grabbed a heavy crystal clock that sat on Bruce's nightstand, and brought it down in a vicious arc, almost making contact with Bruce's head, but his hand was stopped by the bigger man's lightening quick reflex.

Bruce wrestled the clock away, attempting to set it back on the nightstand, but it slipped off onto the floor. By this time, both men were laughing, but the fate of the clock irritated Bruce.

"Dammit, Jack, that belonged to my grandfather!" Bruce groused as he hung over the side of the bed to retrieve it, and after ascertaining that it hadn't been damaged, he set it back on the nightstand. He was about to continue the pleasurable wrestling match when he suddenly felt a slender, well-lubed finger enter him from behind.

"_Dammit! _What the _hell....!?"_

"You're not playing fair, and I won't either. Now, just relax! Take it for a test drive, see what you think...the terms are _very_ flexible..." The Joker was now on Bruce's back, biting into his neck, causing shivers to run down his back, and what was being done in his nether region was actually beginning to feel very nice.

Meeting little resistance, Jack continued his seduction, and before too long, had gained grudging permission from a writhing Bruce to do exactly what he had wanted to do all along.

"On your hands and knees..." the ex-clown whispered commandingly. Bruce turned his head and gave him a fevered look, then complied. Jack knelt behind him, smiling evilly, and after applying a generous portion of lubricant, gave a healthy thrust into his lover and waited for his response.

"Oh, God..." Bruce groaned.

"That's Jack, to you..." he grinned. "How you doin', there? Is life as you know it now over?"

"I'm...ok...it feels..._weird_," Bruce muttered.

"Mmm. Well, let's keep going, shall we?" Without waiting for a response, he thrust in a little deeper, winning a surprised grunt from Bruce, and they continued in that fashion until the Joker's erection was entirely buried inside his rather disinclined lover.

"Ok?" Jack asked.

"Unh...yeah, I guess...good thing for me that you have such a tiny dick..."

"Yeah, let's see how tiny you think it is by the time I get through with you...." Jack rejoined in amusement, pulling back and driving into him with a little more enthusiasm than Bruce would have preferred at that point.

When the Joker was done, Bruce turned over gingerly and lay quietly on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling, unable to form actual words. His orgasm had overwhelmed him, leaving him feeling warm, floating...perfect. A little sore--he'd been joking about the size of Jack's penis--but..._perfect._

His lover, too sated to gloat, was in much the same condition. Bruce was suddenly aware of Jack's fingertips lightly tracing a path down his arm, ending at his hand, which the blond man tightly grasped. Bruce squeezed back, and then moved closer to the other until Jack slipped his arm around the broad shoulders. His post-orgasmic daze had passed and he was ready to start razzing Bruce with some triumphant banter.

"So, angel-pants...ready to don a mini-skirt and halter top, or have I inadvertently sent you screaming into the night, looking for a nice bit of het-affirming pussy?"

"Neither. That...that really wasn't so bad, actually," Bruce finally murmured into the Joker's chest.

"Yeeaahh...I've definitely had worse...." he agreed.

Bruce rolled his eyes and started to pull away, but Jack held him close.

"Don't...I'm just kidding. That was amazing...."

"It was...fucking wonderful...."

"Intense..."

"Mind-altering...listen, I don't ever again want to hear you say that I don't trust you...."

Jack laughed. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't relax entirely, big guy, I was goin' easy on ya because it was your first time. Next time, heh, things might get a little _rough_...." the Joker promised, teasingly.

"What makes you so sure there'll _be_ a next time?" asked Bruce menacingly.

"The fact that you haven't rearranged my face indicates that ya kinda _liked_ it...." the Joker responded with a devilish wink.

"Hmm. I guess you're getting to know me better than I thought."

"Sure! See, there's still lots of stuff we can do together to keep me busy...."

"Great. All right, I'm exhausted. Good night, you bastard."

" 'Night, you fuckin' queer."

"I may have to kill you now...."

"Ah, ah, ah, you'd miss me, baby...you don't want to have to go out and find a _stranger_ to fuck ya, now that you've developed the taste for it...."

"I _haven't, _and anyway, I couldn't find anyone stranger than you...."

The two grinned at each other. Jack gave Bruce a hasty kiss on the nose and scrambled over to his side of the big bed. For a long moment, Bruce stared up at the ceiling before whispering, "What the hell..." to himself, rolling over and grabbing Jack as though he were a cuddly, if bony, teddy bear.

"Oh, crap," said Jack, rolling his eyes in defeat. He considered trying to struggle out of the embrace, but finally gave up and settled for the warm, suffocating arms of his lover rather than the cold, blessed solitude of the chaise lounge. Give and take, give and take...he could play this game, he supposed.

For now.


	14. Trust

**A/N: Just wanted to say a special thank you to all the folks who leave anonymous reviews, I only wish I could respond personally, but I wanted you to know I appreciate you very much! Thank you to _everyone_ for reviewing, hope you enjoy this chapter.**

*** * ***

Bruce woke up with Jack cradled in his arms, his back to Bruce's chest. The sore, slightly raw feeling in the dark haired man's nether region reminded him immediately of what they had done the night before, and a slow grin stole across his face. Damn Joker. He definitely had a way of breaking down Bruce's boundaries, and making him like it, too. Last night had been the third night in a row that Jack had taken the dominant position in their coupling, and he had definitely lost any concern he might have had for Bruce's inexperience. He had fucked the living _hell_ out of him.

Bruce nuzzled his lover's neck before pushing him over onto his stomach and sliding all the way into him with one deep, hard thrust.

"Unh...wha'? Hey, fucker, I'm not even awake, wha'cha doin'?" asked the blond, groggily.

"Just a little reciprocation for the fun I had last night...."

"Hey, at least I used lube...."

"You always say you don't need it...."

"Aw, give me a break, big guy, I'm a delicate li'l flower, remember?"

"Right. How about you just shut up and take it, then we'll both limp down to breakfast?"

"You're such a bastard..."gasped the clown, smiling. The thrusting felt damn good and he lay there happily, moaning softly as his lover satisfied himself.

Afterwards, they got up, showered and dressed, and headed to the kitchen for much-needed sustenance.

"Big plans for today?" asked Jack of his partner as he helped himself to extra brown sugar for his oatmeal.

"Two meetings and a phone conference. But, I'll probably make it home early. How about yourself?"

"Oh, the day's just packed. I'll be doing laundry, watch some TV, see if they uploaded any new porn on a couple of my favorite amateur sites, and probably conk out for a rousing nap around two. Jealous?"

"Maybe when I get home we can do something fun."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"I was thinking I'd bring home some stage makeup and see if we can do something to cover up those scars. Then, we could take a drive out of town, get some dinner, maybe go to a movie...."

"Really?" Jack looked genuinely interested and surprised. "I didn't think you'd let me out of Gordon's jurisdiction until I was an old man."

"You've been doing awfully well, Jack. You can't stay cooped up here forever. Do you like the idea?"

"Well, sure! And, don't worry. I'll be good. I won't let ya down...." Jack nodded his assurance at his lover and they smiled at each other, both pleased at the thought of doing something "normal" together.

* * *

Bruce hurried home, arriving during Jack's promised naptime, so he found a snack and holed up in his communication/surveillance room to kill some time. He did some checking to see if Batman needed to make any appearances later that night, then idly flipped on the security camera footage from the day before.

He watched Jack lounging in their bedroom, reading with the television on, as he often did, a habit that irritated Bruce beyond belief. He watched as the blond yawned, stretched and lay down on the bed for a nap. Bruce grinned. When he was asleep, the Joker looked very young and harmless. He was almost ready to switch the machine off and head upstairs, but something niggled at his brain and made him reverse the footage.

There was something...odd. He couldn't figure it out, it was like a word on the tip of his tongue that he couldn't quite verbalize. He ran the tape again--it was perfectly normal, nothing unusual, he just had that odd feeling....Shaking his head in puzzlement, Bruce called to Alfred.

"Hey, Alfred? Could you come here a minute?"

"Yes, sir?" Alfred had been cleaning up the kitchen, and still had on an apron and rubber gloves.

"Yeah, would you watch this footage and tell me if you see anything unusual? I feel like I'm missing something, but...."

The two men stared at the screen depicting a napping blond former clown, and Alfred shook his head.

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't see anything unusual...."

"Wait a minute...." Bruce muttered.

The clock.

After their wild wrangling for top the other night, Bruce's grandfather's crystal clock had never been properly replaced in its usual position facing the interior of the room, and was now actually facing the camera.

Bruce ran the footage again.

"God..._damn_...it," he spat disgustedly. How could he have been so stupid? He reached for something in a drawer and stuck it in his pocket.

"What is it, sir?" asked Alfred, bewildered.

"The clock. Look at the _clock."_

At the start of the Joker's nap, the timepiece read two o'clock. In the final frame of the period, it read four-thirty-five, yet, according to the tape monitor, the time span should only have been one hour.

Bruce's blood was boiling.

Alfred was still puzzled.

"I'm sorry sir, I still don't see it...."

"The fucking Joker tampered with the security footage. He tampered with the _security footage!_ Who knows how long this has been going on! Damn it, Alfred, why don't we have a security camera on the security camera room?"

"I'll order one immediately...."

"Too late for that! What the hell, what the fucking _hell, _has that psycho been up to!"

Bruce barreled furiously out of the small room, heading straight for his bedroom with Alfred worriedly striding along after him, fearing for the Joker's well-being. He still wasn't particularly comfortable having the criminal in the house with them, but he couldn't help but like him, and, besides, he didn't relish having to clean up the mess after Bruce Wayne finished venting his anger on the skinny young fellow.

Bruce arrived at his bedroom door and jerked it wide open. Jack was curled up in the corner of the lounge, television on, book in hand.

"Oh, hi, babe. I thought I heard you. Hey, thanks for getting me this shark book, did you know that great whites can detect even tiny amounts of blood up to three miles away? Isn't that cool?"

"You're going to wish you were three miles away from a great white after I'm done with you," Bruce stated coldly as he strode over to his lover, jerked him into a standing position and dragged him over to the bed, with Alfred standing in the doorway. Jack's book fell dramatically to the floor.

Jack grinned lasciviously.

"Gosh, big guy, you really want to do this with Alfred around? Doesn't bother me, but his heart's not so good, and..."

"Look at the clock," Bruce said benignly.

"Huh?"

"The clock. Look at it."

Jack was beginning to get a very bad feeling about his current situation.

"Uh...ok. What about it?"

"Is there anything wrong with it?"

"Well...I don't think so, I mean, it's kind of tacky, but...."

"No, there's _not _anything wrong with it. It keeps perfect time."

"Uh-huh. So?"

"So. When security footage is tampered with...."

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah, uh-oh. Not as smart as you think you are, are you, you little shit?" Bruce's fury was rising again and Jack shrank back, holding his hands in front of him in a defensive position as Bruce's large frame advanced menacingly.

"Now, just a minute, Brucie, don't get so upset! I didn't do anything wrong...."

"Where were you?" Bruce's voice had dropped to a lower register and taken on a Batman rasp.

"Nowhere! I was just, you know, bored, playing with the controls a little, no big deal...."

"Bullshit. Where did you go?"

"I told you, nowhere!"

"Really. Did you remember to reset the exterior cameras, too? Or, will I see you sneaking out of the house if I go check _them?"_

"Uhhh..."

"Right." Bruce jammed his unfortunate boyfriend hard up against the bedroom wall by the front of his shirt, holding him almost off of the ground.

"TELL ME WHERE YOU WENT!"

"Wow, you really _are_ a control freak, aren't ya?"

"TELL ME."

"Can't a man go for a little solitary constitutional in the afternoon if he wants?"

"If you don't tell me _EXACTLY_ where you've been going, I will take your broken, bleeding body down to the car, throw it in, and drop it off at Arkham without slowing down. Now, _tell me where you've been going."_

The Joker rolled his eyes.

"Ok, ok! Sheesh. Can't a guy have a few innocent secrets from his sweetie?"

"Joker, I swear, I will..."

"You'll laugh at me."

"I seriously doubt _that."_

"Yes, you will."

"Just tell me," Bruce said tiredly.

"Fine. But, don't go calling me a sissy. 'Cause I'm _not_..." Bruce detected a light of amusement dancing in Jack's dark eyes.

"Huh?"

"You know, _lots_ of guys take up hobbies...."

"Joker..."

"...and, I can't do the athletic stuff anymore, not after you beat the shit out of me so many times..."

"Jack, please...."

"...but, I wanted to do something _nice_ for ya...." Jack was beginning to snicker in anticipation.

"You are so dead..."

"...so I decided to take some _knitting classes_..."

"Do _not _go there...."

"....so I could make you a lovely sweater!" By this time, Jack was helpless with laughter, but Bruce's face was a blank wall. He let go of the clown with one hand, drew back, and smashed his fist across Jack's jaw.

"_Ow! _Oh, shit, I thought you _liked _sweaters! Come on, doll, I've been workin' on it for weeks, at least try it on!" The blow only intensified the Joker's hilarity and Alfred shook his head in sorrow. This was not going well at all.

Bruce pulled his fist back and threw another shot that collided with the side of the Joker's face and across his nose, creating a sudden spurt of blood that began to trail downward over his mouth.

"_What have you been doing! _Is anyone in danger, are there explosives involved..." Bruce was trying to speak calmly but was beginning to feel panic rising within him.

Jack stared at him, bewildered.

"Huh? Explosives..._no!" _he responded scornfully. He shook off the pain of the blows and tried to regain a serious tone.

"Honest, Bruce, I haven't done anything wrong! I thought you trusted me...." he said, sounding a bit hurt.

"You _earn_ trust, and you can lose it. And, you just blew it, every bit of it. You are going to tell me exactly what you've been up to, and then, assuming I don't have to run out and rescue anyone, I am taking you straight back to Arkham. For _good." _Bruce was past playing games with his boyfriend, and was speaking with deadly seriousness.

Jack's eyes narrowed. When he spoke, it was with a bitterness that Bruce had never heard before.

"Oh, really. So, all of a sudden, you don't trust me, and never will again. All because I pulled a little joke on ya. Well, ha-ha, I guess the joke's on me. _Fine, _take me back to Arkham. At least there, they don't _pretend_ to believe in me. _All the fucking video cams are right out in the open."_

Bruce had forgotten that he had never mentioned to Jack about the supposedly hidden bedroom camera. He had a momentary rush of guilt come over him, but quickly brushed it away.

"I _had _to do that. I've taken a huge risk with you, right from the beginning, and look what you've done to repay me. You escaped from the hospital, and now this. I _can't_ trust you."

The Joker continued to stare balefully at him as the blood dripped from his nose onto the carpet, much to Alfred's dismay.

"I didn't do anything wrong, Bruce. No one and nothing's in danger."

"Then, tell me where you've been going."

"That's none of your fucking business."

Bruce stared at his lover and a sudden thought came to him, filling him with anger and self-loathing. Of course. How blind could he be?

"God _damn_ it, Jack--have you been..._cheating_ on me?" Bruce gasped in disbelief.

Jack's eyes opened wide and his mouth fell open in surprise.

"Shit, NO! You think I need more of _this?" _He cast a disparaging glace down at Bruce's bulging crotch.

"With a woman, then?" whispered Bruce, his heart sinking.

"Jeeze Louise, you jerk, I wouldn't do that! You told me it hurt your feelings, so I quit fucking around on ya a long time ago! Why would you even think that?" he asked, distressed.

"You are so full of shit, Joker." Bruce said, his voice suddenly cold. He didn't know what to believe, but somehow he _did_ believe there wasn't another lover involved. That left crime. He pulled back and delivered a hard blow to Jack's midsection, dropping him to his knees. Jack groaned as the wind was knocked out of him.

Bruce shoved him down to the floor and pulled Jack's hands behind him and placed the pair of cuffs he had retrieved from his desk drawer in the security room on him.

"Come on, sweetheart, let's go. Maybe Arkham has some new techniques for wandering psychopaths by now...." Bruce said resignedly as he yanked the prostrate man to his feet.

"Master Wayne, may I ask Jack a question?" Alfred interjected quickly. As unpredictable as the Joker was, Alfred got the feeling he meant it when he said he hadn't put anyone in danger. The bloodied young man stared sadly at him, waiting for his question.

"Jack...you said it wasn't any of Master Wayne's business. Why is that?"

"Because. Not everything I do has something to do with _him_. And, like I said, I didn't do anything _wrong...." _he offered sullenly.

"And, you do want Master Wayne to trust you?"

Jack shrugged, then nodded slightly.

"Is it not fair to think that Master Wayne wants _you_ to trust _him_, as well?"

Jack shot a glance at Bruce and shrugged again.

"I guess."

"So...wouldn't this be a good opportunity for the two of you to...well..._trust_ each other?"

"What do you mean?" asked Bruce.

"Well, whatever Jack's been up to, he obviously doesn't want you to be involved. Perhaps, you could assure him that he has nothing to fear by sharing it with you. And, Jack, if you are indeed telling the truth, then what you're doing shouldn't cause any problems if you were to trust Master Bruce with it, isn't that right?"

"He won't believe me," Jack stated dully.

Bruce made an impatient gesture.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked in exasperation.

"You haven't yet!"

"That's because you start out with some bullshit about knitting school, for crying out loud!"

"I was just kidding...."

"Then, stop kidding and tell me the truth," Bruce pressed Jack against the wall, gently this time, and looked deeply into his eyes.

"No," he stated flatly.

"Jack..."

"No...I won't tell ya. But, I'll _show_ you!" Jack brightened, suddenly happy.

"_What??" _asked Bruce, bewildered.

"Yeah! Come on, big guy, take off the bracelets for me and let's go. I'll _show_ you what I've been doing, then you'll believe me!" The Joker was almost bouncing with excitement. Then he stopped.

"But...."

"But what?" asked Bruce, emotionally drained.

"You have to promise me something."

_"What?"_

"You have to promise me you won't try to fix something that can't ever be repaired." Jack was suddenly solemn and he looked worriedly at Bruce.

"What are you talking about, Jack?"

"Just promise me. Promise, or just take me the fuck back to Arkham, because if you can't promise me, there's no hope for the two of us anyway," Jack said quietly.

Bruce had never heard such a serious tone in Jack's voice. He thought rapidly, and made his choice.

"All right, I _promise. _But, if I find out anyone's in danger, or...."

"They're _not._ I told you, I haven't done anything wrong. This isn't like that."

"Ok." Bruce pushed Jack sideways and removed the handcuffs. "So, where are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there."

"Great."

The two headed out, leaving Alfred to get a bucket and cleaner to sop up the blood that spotted the formerly pristine white wool carpet.


	15. Where I've Been

Bruce reluctantly followed Jack down the stairs. As he headed toward the door leading to the garage, Bruce grabbed his arm.

_"What?" _Jack asked in annoyance.

"Come here." Bruce led his bruised and bloodied lover to the downstairs bathroom, found a washcloth, ran some warm water, and began gently cleaning the smeared dried blood from the Joker's face.

The clown stood impatiently as Bruce finished swiping at the coppery stains, and started to pull away as soon as he was done.

Bruce held his arm securely.

"Are you ok?" he asked, surveying the minor visible damage with a critical eye.

"I'm fine! Shit, Bruce, you've done worse to me plenty of times, you think I've turned into a pansy or something?"

"I just...I didn't...."

"Yeah, yeah, it's ok. Hell, normally we'd be fucking our brains out after a round like that, too bad Alfred was in the room, huh?" he grinned.

"No, _lucky_ for you...lucky for both of us.... I kind of...lost my temper," Bruce admitted, ashamed.

The Joker looked at him in surprise.

"Damn. Is this an apology?"

"N-no, well, yes, I mean...I mean, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that."

"That's _right! _Look, let's forget it, huh, big guy? We have somewhere to go, remember?"

"Ok." That was one thing about the Joker--he didn't hold little things like bodily injury against a person.

They headed to the garage and Bruce unlocked one of his less showy vehicles. The two men took their seats, and Bruce drove out of the underground garage onto the street.

"All right, where to?"

"Murray Street, at Yale. On the east side."

Bruce stared at him.

"Murray Street? That's miles! How the hell...Jack, have you been stealing cars?" Bruce asked, disturbed, as he stepped on the accelerator and made his way down the street toward the highway.

Jack looked at him mildly.

"It's not stealing when you bring 'em back..." he answered reasonably.

"Bring them back...you've been taking _my_ cars??"

"Well, you've got, like, fifty, or something! It's not good for cars not to be driven once in a while, I was doing you a favor!"

"A favor! Which ones did you take?"

"Uh...well, I'm partial to the older models, they're much more interesting...."

"The _classics?_ Oh, my God! You didn't hotwire them, did you? You could have damaged them..."

"Oh, no, no, no. I used a key," Jack assured him.

"A _key?_ How the hell did you get a hold of the keys?"

"Easy. I found out where Alfred stashes 'em."

"He's supposed to keep them locked up!"

"Oh, he does...."

"And, all those cars are alarmed!"

"I know! That's what made it interesting! It was quite a challenge, let me tell you! It's a good thing Alfred drinks a cup of tea every afternoon...."

"What...do...you..._mean?" _Bruce asked menacingly.

"Well, he would have probably noticed me messing around out there in the garage if he hadn't fallen into the habit of taking a little nap around that time in the afternoon...." Jack's eyes were dancing with mischief.

"You've been drugging my butler?"

"Relax! It's an herbal concoction, it's good for him! Lots of calming ingredients..."

"Jack, when we get back, we're going to have a little talk."

"We are? Is it going to be one of those, uh, _ouch-y _kinds of talks like we had earlier?"

"I would imagine."

"Fair enough," Jack said dismissively as Bruce shook his head in aggravation. Why was he surprised?

They drove in silence except for occasional directions from Jack until they turned down an old city street that was just beginning to enjoy the effects of gentrification at one end, but became shabbier and shabbier as they went along. Finally, Jack said "Turn in here," and Bruce pulled into an old, unused parking garage. A chain was draped across the entrance; Bruce stopped and Jack hopped out, did some business with the lock, and dropped the chain to the ground.

"You're just a menace, you know that?" Bruce asked in disgust. The Joker grinned.

"Park on the floor just below the roof."

The car snaked up the levels to their destination. The pair got out of the car, and Jack gestured to Bruce to follow him. Mystified, Bruce did as he was told, and was surprised not to be getting danger vibes from his surroundings. They walked up to the roof and Jack led Bruce to the retaining wall that faced the street, where he assumed a sentry-like pose. The branches of a very large old oak tree gracefully fell before them, providing a perfect cover for an observer--or a sniper, Bruce thought worriedly as he joined the Joker.

Bruce quickly took in the features of the area, and found that they were in a perfect position to survey the entire street. But, there were no banks, jewelry stores, government buildings, or other establishments that typically attracted the Joker's interest, just a row of old brownstone apartment buildings and a convenience store at the corner.

"Ok, Joker, this is your big chance to convince me...what are we looking at?"

"Just be patient, tough guy. What's the time?"

Bruce, disturbed, glanced at his watch. "Two-thirty-five. What are we waiting for?"

"You'll see!" Jack answered cheerfully.

"If anything explodes...."

"Oh, stop it! I told you, no one's in danger. Just cool your jets, will ya?" The Joker straightened himself and peered down the street. Suddenly, a big smile passed across his face.

"Ah...here...we...go..." he said, pleased.

Bruce followed his gaze curiously, and saw an older model compact car making its way slowly down the street. It stopped in front of the apartment building directly across from them.

Bruce watched intently. A pretty young woman with long, dark hair pulled back in a clip and wearing a simple skirt and blouse, got out of the car. Bruce pursed his lips.

"Damn you, Jack, you _are _cheating on me!' he growled angrily.

"Huh? Oh, hell no, not _her!" _he spat irritably. "Keep watching!" He gestured back at the car.

The woman strode around to the passenger side and opened the door, helping a young boy with a large backpack to get out.

Bruce's stomach turned.

"No, Jack! Oh, God--you're a _pedophile?"_ Bruce asked in horror.

Jack took his eyes from the child and turned to look at his boyfriend in stunned incredulity.

_"What? NO! _Jeeze, Bruce, what kind of creep do you think I _am?" _he wailed, aggrieved.

"Then, what are we _looking_ at?" Bruce demanded in exasperation.

"The boy--he's my _son," _said the Joker gently, a wry smile on his face.

* * *

Bruce now felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he simply watched as the woman and the boy entered the building.

"Look at the window on the third floor--see? He's going to sit at the table and start his homework. Just like that, she doesn't even have to yell at him! Watch...."

Sure enough, Bruce could see clearly through the large picture window as the little boy settled at the table and began pulling books and papers out of his backpack.

"Now, his mom's going to bring him a snack, something pretty healthy, no junk. Usually, it looks like homemade cookies and fruit, but sometimes she does a sandwich and veggies...he doesn't like that, ha ha...."

As he foretold, the attractive woman brought a plate, although Bruce couldn't make out the contents, and a glass of milk. She said something to the blond-haired, slender boy, and he looked up with a beautiful smile, and as of at that moment Bruce had no doubt--the boy clearly _was_ the Joker's son.

"Jesus, he looks just like you...." muttered Bruce.

"Yeah! He used to look a lot like _her, _but as he gets older he's really starting to look more like me--lucky kid, huh?" Jack snickered proudly.

Bruce turned to look at his companion, still feeling bewildered.

"So...if that's your kid...the woman...his mom, right?...you and she..."

"Uh, yeah, that's how it works, Bruce. I knocked her up, just about, oh, seven years ago, it would be.."

"Shit."

"What?" Jack asked ruefully.

"It's just hard to think of you...reproducing."

Jack gave him an annoyed look.

"Why is it so hard to believe I have a wife and kid?"

_"Wife?" _Bruce asked, startled.

"Well, yeah, I'm a stand up guy. When she told me she had a bun in the oven, I married her, what's so strange about that?"

"The fact that you never told me, for one! Why the hell didn't you _tell_ me? And, when did you get divorced?"

"Um...divorced?"

"Oh, my God, you're still _married?"_

"Only on paper, big guy! A mere technicality. You know, it's hard to work out custody details when you've got a restraining order against you...."

"_Restraining_ order...did you _beat _her?"

"You think I'm a real bastard, don't you! NO, I didn't beat her! She just...took exception to the line of work I was in, that's all," he explained uncomfortably.

"What...do you mean?"

"Well...I was...sort of moonlighting for this guy. He ran an...extermination service, heh. One day, I got a call that Ethan was sick at daycare...."

"Ethan?"

"My son. He has a _name, _Bruce. Anyway, I had to rush to pick him up, and I took him straight home. I was so worried about him, I forgot that I...kind of, uh, failed to take care of a few _details, _un-fortunate-_ly..._later that afternoon, Beth...."

_"Beth?"_

"My wife. Aw, you're a little slow, aren't you, gorgeous? Anyway, Beth took the car to pick up some groceries, and when she opened the trunk, uh...."

"Oh, lord."

"Yeah, I forgot I hadn't had a chance to dump the...evidence. Aaand, she kind of freaked out. She always was a little overly-sensitive."

"So, she...."

"Kicked my ass out, yeah. Clothes dumped out the window, locks changed overnight, lots of screaming and yelling, the whole bit...."

Bruce sighed, trying to gather his thoughts.

"So...how old is, uh, Ethan?"

"Six, he'll be seven next month. Hey, what's today, Wednesday?"

"Er...yeah."

"Soccer practice."

"What?"

"Ethan has soccer practice on Wednesdays, karate on Mondays...."

Bruce suddenly got a bit of a creepy feeling.

"Are you saying you've been sneaking out of the house every day to come spy on your kid?"

"NO, of course not! Just a couple of times a week..."

Just then, Bruce noticed the little boy had disappeared from the window, and a few moments later, dressed in a soccer uniform, he was hurrying out the door with his mother close behind him. In the still air of the quiet neighborhood, Bruce was able to catch a bit of conversation..."Ethan! did you remember your shin guards?" "Yeah, Ma!" "Show me!" The boy held up the required objects, then the pair got in the car and drove off.

Jack sighed heavily and the two men were quiet for a moment.

"Ok, let's get out of here," said Jack tonelessly.

They headed back to the car, and Bruce drove out into the street.

They were both lost in thought for several minutes, then Bruce tried to form some coherent questions.

"Jack...tell me about, um, Beth. Where did you meet her? When?"

"Aw...jeeze, Bruce, ancient history...let's see, I was eighteen, she was twenty...I finally decided to try to settle down, get a real job, and go back to school. I was driving a truck for this local delivery service, and she was waiting tables at a joint where I usually grabbed some lunch. We started talking and before I knew it, we were going out. One thing led to another, and bam, she got pregnant." Jack shifted in his seat; Bruce could tell talking about his past didn't come easily to him.

"So, yeah, we got married and lived with her parents for a while, a situation which I couldn't fucking _stand_...she was going to school to become a teacher. I wanted to, you know, get a place for just us, fix it so she didn't have to slave away while she was trying to get her education, plus take care of a kid at the same time." Jack ran a hand through his hair as though the words were taking a lot out of him.

"I ended up doing some, uh, you know, 'special' deliveries, off the radar stuff, making some extra cash and everything was great. We were really happy. But, the money...it was never enough, you know? A kid needs so many things, clothes, shoes, uh..._food...._plus...Ethan had some serious health problems. He had to have surgery at one point. You know, the doctor bills add up, it just goes on and on. Then there's daycare, and...well. "

"So, I gradually got more and more, um, challenging jobs, met people higher up in the organization...the money got better....but...Beth knew things weren't exactly on the up and up. We had arguments, problems...I tried to keep things calm at home, wanted everything nice for the kid, but...." his voice trailed off and he was quiet.

"What happened after she kicked you out?"

"Oh, well, I was...stupid. I thought she'd get over it, that we'd work it out...I stayed away for a few days, thinking she'd cool down and we could talk, but the next time I went back to our place...they were _gone. _She up and moved them the hell _out!_ No word, no clue as to where she went. I went to her folks and begged them to tell me where she'd taken my son, but they said she'd taken out a restraining order on me, that I wasn't allowed to get within 200 yards of her or Ethan...I couldn't believe it, couldn't believe she just left...." Bruce heard his partner's voice crack and they were both quiet for while. Then Jack started speaking again, this time his voice was raw with emotion.

"I never even got to say goodbye! Who knows what she told him. I guess Ethan thinks I just...forgot about him, or something. Abandoned him. I figured out where they were, eventually, and she refused to have anything to do with me, the bitch wouldn't even let me see the boy, to tell him I loved him, nothing....she threatened to have me arrested if I came anywhere near them... I just kind of...went nuts. Really had a few lost years there...did some crazy stuff, well, _you_ know."

"Was that why you wanted to...kill yourself?" Bruce asked softly.

"Aw...it was tough, you know? I felt like I couldn't help my boy anymore, couldn't take care of him, like I'd lost my purpose....I guess throwing my crazy ass in Arkham saved my life, not that that's anything for you to be proud of, huh, Bats?"

"Well...I don't know about that. But...when did you start...."

"Watching them? After I ditched the loony bin, I tracked 'em down again. I was...you're going to think this is bad, but...I was going to _take _him. I mean, probably not really, but it was an idea I played with...I could have just picked him up from school and headed out of town, maybe left the country, started over....but, obviously, that wouldn't have been smart. It wouldn't have been good for him, I mean, I guess he loves his mother or something. Grandparents. Friends. A doctor who knows his case. I couldn't take him away from that." Jack bit his lip thoughtfully.

"And, I wasn't exactly in a position to provide a stable upbringing, right? Plus, I was busy keeping an eye on _you_, too...." He shot a rueful grin at the driver before continuing.

"I was so afraid Beth would take up with some creep, you know, some piece of shit that would make Ethan's life hell...I didn't want him growing up that way, you know? Not like I did. I wanted to protect him....So, at first I was just going to drop around once in a while, keep an eye on things. But...it was so good to see him again, just to _see _him, how tall he was getting, whether he was turning into a dork or not...the more I watched, the more it got to be like I was still...in his life. I _know_ that's pathetic. It's sad, it's lame, I...I _know_. But, I couldn't help it. I just missed him so much...."

"And, at least that way you could be sure he was healthy and all right," Bruce mused, trying to put himself in Jack's place.

"Yeah! I mean, how do you go from taking care of someone from the time they're a little baby, doing everything for 'em, to..._nothing? _It was too hard...." Jack's voice broke and Bruce waited while he gained control of himself.

"I really liked being a daddy, you know?" Jack said softly as he gave Bruce a pleading look, hoping for understanding.

"I liked holding him, rocking him, playing ball with him. Even the tough stuff, doctor visits, cleaning up vomit and all that....I didn't mind. I guess I was a lousy husband, but I think I was a pretty good dad. He seemed to like me ok...I just miss him...."

The Joker stared blankly out the window.

Bruce felt sad at the story, even though his mind was still squirming with jealously and hurt from being excluded from this important part of Jack's life. He was quiet for a moment.

"So, why didn't you ever tell me about him?" he asked kindly.

"I...wanted to. But, I kind of tried to block it all out of my mind, make it stop hurting so much...and like I said, I didn't want you to know how pathetic and weak I was being...."

"Loving and missing and worrying about your child isn't weakness. It's...normal."

"Yeah, I guess so. But, in case you haven't noticed, I'm _not_ normal. Things start buzzing around in my head, and I...I just _do_ things. But yeah...I shoulda told you."

"And, Beth? You loved her, didn't you?" This thought in particular jabbed at Bruce's brain.

Jack shrugged.

"Well, sure, at first...I mean, she put up with me for a while, I have to give her that."

_"She_ must have loved _you...."_

"I...I guess, for a while. She got over it."

"You love Ethan...."

"Yeah...."

"Do you....do you still love _her?"_

"Aw, come on, what kind of question is that? No! She took my son away from me, I'll always hate her for that."

For some reason, Bruce felt slightly better. Then, he grinned teasingly at Jack, hoping to lighten the mood.

"I don't know how I feel about being involved with a married man."

"Wow, Bats, I'm an escaped mental patient, and you're worried about my marital status?"

"Good point. Look, Jack, there must be something we can do..."

"About what?"

"About you getting to see your son..."

"Oh, no you don't! This is why I made you promise...don't try to fix this, Bruce, it's hopeless. He's better off without me, anyway. Things are fine just the way they are."

"Things are _terrible_ the way they are! You can't continue to spy on him like this, sooner or later someone will spot you, and you'll get arrested again...think how bad it would look, they'd say you were stalking your ex or something. You don't want to go back to Arkham, do you?"

Jack gave Bruce a stressed look.

"So, what am I supposed to do? Just forget about him? I...I _can't."_

"Let me think about it. There's got to be a solution...."

"There's _not._ I told you, this isn't any of your business, just leave me alone. I won't get caught...."

"What happens to you_ is_ my business! Please, promise me you won't go over there any more. At least, not until I've had a chance to look into some things...."

"Come on, Bruce! As long as I'm wanted, I can't do anything legit about this....just forget it, you shouldn't have gotten mixed up with me in the first place...."

"I have to agree, but I _did, _and now...I want to help."

"Great. Always the do-gooder...."

"There're some possibilities. Let me work on this."

For the first time in a very long time, Jack felt a stir of hopefulness, but immediately pushed it aside.

"You'll just make everything worse."

"I'll try not to. Trust me, Jack. Please?"

The Joker gazed at his handsome lover and a sad smile crossed his face.

'I'm not any better at that than you are. But...ok. I'll try. I'll try."

Bruce pulled into his underground garage, parked, and immediately pulled Jack into his arms, wanting to give--and receive--comfort.

"We'll figure something out," he whispered in Jack's ear assuringly.

"Sure, Bats. Sure," he responded cynically.

They held each other for a little while, then got out of the vehicle.

The pair walked back to the big, empty house in silence.


	16. Asking for the Moon

That night, Bats came home from patrolling feeling oddly refreshed and clear-headed. He'd broken up a drug deal on the lower east side and managed to get some useful information about the traffickers that supplied the dealer. He also stopped by the MCU for a brief meeting with Gordon, just to get an update on what his department was facing these days.

Batman wanted to know the official stance on the Joker situation--were they devoting a lot of resources to searching for him? Did it appear he was exerting any influence on the criminal element that was currently active? But Bats didn't bring it up, and neither did Gordon, so he was fairly certain that the department had bigger fish to fry, and that was good to know.

Maybe it meant that Jack's lies had been limited to the sins of omission regarding his visits to keep an eye on his son. Maybe Bruce _could_ relax a bit and go back to trusting him, at least so far as his "good behavior" criminal-activity-wise was concerned.

He certainly hoped so.

The vigilante returned home at dawn and changed clothes in the bat cave. He was still upset with Jack--for sneaking out, for covering his tracks so well, but mostly for not telling Bruce about his past, for not trusting him with it--but he really wanted to see him and spend some time with him. The man was a constant source of fascination for Bruce, and this development added another layer to the mystery that was the Joker.

How could such a madman who lived with no rules have had such a "normal" period in his life as to have produced a child, married a woman, shared a home and family life with her, only to end up in an institution for the criminally insane? To have committed crimes and wreaked havoc on a city like Gotham....and what could Bruce Wayne do to help him?

All these thoughts roiled in his sleep-deprived brain as he made his way to the bedroom where his lover was sleeping peacefully. As annoyed as he was, Bruce couldn't wait to waken him. He wanted to smooth things over between them, let him know that he was sorry--_really_ sorry--he had treated him so brutally at discovering his deception; he hoped the progress he had made with Jack hadn't suffered permanent damage.

He desperately wanted to be welcomed home by those dark eyes twinkling at him, and that beautiful, scarred mouth twisting into a grin of sarcastic affection for him. To feel those skinny, sinewy arms wrap around him as they kissed, to nestle between his legs as they readied themselves to make love, and to hold him tightly afterward as they slipped into sleep together....

Bruce opened the door slowly. The room was still swathed in darkness, the open windows revealing the early light of dawn just barely peeking through the blackness of the sky. He stepped quietly, taking care not to run into a piece of furniture, not wanting to startle his partner--he didn't react well when startled--and he approached the bed, saying his name softly.

"Jack...I'm home, buddy. You awake?" Getting no reply, Bruce reached out to put his hand on the mound on Jack's side of the bed, only to find it was made entirely of rumpled covers and a pillow carelessly twisted among the mess. Bruce reared back irritably and switched on a light--there was no sign of Jack in the room.

_"Jack!" _he roared, striding to the bathroom and checking for him there, but with no luck.

_"Dammit!" _he swore furiously. Where _was_ he? Maybe he'd gone downstairs for some reason, although Bruce hadn't seen lights or heard any noise when he came in. He supposed it was possible they'd crossed paths and missed each other--he tried to control his dread and his anger until he was sure there was really a problem. He had to stop letting the Joker punch his buttons, sending him into an irrational rage without fully understanding the situation.

He should ask Alfred, maybe he knew something....Alfred. Oh, God.

Bruce picked up the intercom and buzzed the line to Alfred's bedroom. He should still be in bed, he usually didn't get up until after six a.m., but he didn't answer. Bruce's heart sank, and he started to hurry down to check on the butler, when Alfred's calm but sleepy voice came over the intercom.

"Yes, Master Wayne? Is everything all right?" he inquired.

"Oh! Alfred, thank God, you're there. Jack's not in bed--I was just making sure that you were...."

"I'm fine, sir. But, where could he be?"

"I don't know! Would you please check the garage and see if a car is missing?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Thanks...." Bruce carefully checked the rest of the upstairs then headed down and met up with Alfred. The older man had a concerned look on his face.

"What's wrong?" asked Bruce worriedly.

"I haven't found any sign of him, but...."

"But what?"

"The door to the roof...the lock seems to have been tampered with...."

"Shit."

Bruce hastened to the roof exit door and found it unlocked. The roof door was _never _left unlocked, except for workmen doing repairs or maintenance. He raced up the stairs, his heart beating hard and fast. He slammed open the door leading to the outside and glanced wildly around, expecting...what? He didn't know, exactly, but _something..._yet he saw nothing out of place. He strode out. The penthouse was a big building, and also the tallest in the immediate area, making the roof a rather private place. He headed toward the ledge that encircled the perimeter, dreading something he couldn't even name, when a low laugh emanated from behind him.

Jack was sitting with his back propped against a large air condenser unit, his knees pulled up and his arms wrapped around them like a little kid trying to stay warm.

"What's the matter, Bats, _lose_ something?" he snickered.

Bruce sighed heavily in relief.

"Yes, _you. _I came home and you were nowhere to be found. What the hell are you doing up here?" he growled angrily.

"I couldn't sleep. It was hot. I wanted...I wanted to see the city at night, and looking out the window just didn't cut it. I wanted to smell it and taste it and see it and hear it, straight up. So...I found my way out here."

"You don't have permission to come out here," Bruce groused as he sank down to sit next to the clown.

"Ah, per_miss_ion...you know, I'm not doing anything wrong, why do you have to be such a tight-ass all the time?" Jack sighed tiredly.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" Bruce asked in a more kindly tone.

"I don't know. Just couldn't."

Bruce thought maybe he was still upset over the situation with his son, and he slipped an arm around him. Usually, simple acts of affection tended to be met with sarcasm or an uncomfortable flinch, but Jack actually cuddled closer to Bruce and lay his head on his shoulder. Bruce absently twisted his fingers in the blond hair, then massaged Jack's tight neck muscles with one hand.

"Tell me what's wrong," he said gently.

Jack just shook his head. They sat like that, watching dawn break over the city in a breathtaking spectacle and once light had flooded the sky, Bruce put his hand under Jack's chin and tilted his face upward to kiss him. They eagerly explored each other's mouths for a while, then Bruce smiled at his lover.

"How about we go to bed?"

Jack looked at him with a critical eye.

"Waaait a minute, aren't you going to beat the shit out of me for breaking out of the house and coming up here--_'without permission'?"_ he asked snidely.

"No, Jack. I...it's ok, you can come up here whenever you want. Just..._tell_ somebody. And--be sure you _come back _inside, you know?" Bruce gave him a dark, meaningful look.

Jack looked at him quizzically for a moment, then understanding dawned.

"Oh, God, you thought I was gonna off myself from up here? Oh, hell no. I keep telling you, big guy, I'm not in _that_ bad a shape! I don't want to die! I just...I just need to...figure some stuff out. In my head, you know?" He looked Bruce in the eye, and the dark-haired man nodded.

"Ok. I just...I don't want to lose you. Ok?"

"Ok. Let's go to bed. Hey, how about we do a little stress-reduction exercise before we go to sleep?"

"What'd you have in mind?" Bruce grinned.

"Oh, you know, something involving aerobics as well as resistance training..."

"Resistance training?"

"Yeah, you try to fuck me and I'll resist, and then you can pin me down and overcome me."

"Sounds interesting...."

"Well, I know how you love to exercise."

"Are you a qualified trainer?" Bruce asked seriously, but with an amused quirk of his eyebrow.

"Oh, yeahhh...."

Once inside the door, the lovers kissed passionately, then made their way upstairs to their bedroom.

* * *

Bruce definitely knew how to get Jack's mind off of his problems. He lay contentedly under his lover's sculpted, muscular body, sporting a bemused smile as Bruce's orgasm caused him to arch his back, groan, and ejaculate deep inside him. The clown _liked _sex. He liked the electric shock an orgasm brought to his twitching body, the way it kind of re-booted his brain, and he liked watching the effect it had on the other person, especially a tightly-wound spring like Bruce Wayne. It was one time when he couldn't control his emotions, couldn't cover his true feelings with calm reason. The other times were when he, the Joker, brought him to the point of exasperation or fury, but that typically resulted in a beating, which typically resulted in sex, so it was kind of the same thing.

Afterwards, the pair lay sleepily in each other's arms.

"Don't you feel bad, cheating on your wife?" Bruce teased. If it had been any other human being on earth, he would never joke about something so emotionally-charged and sensitive, but he knew Jack well enough to know that something was troubling him and that he would not share it with Bruce unless he chafed at him until he blurted something out.

"Ah...that ship has sailed, Bat-guy. I think when she explained to me that if I ever got near her again she would blast a hole through my gut with my own shotgun, that was a sign it was ok for me to start dating again."

"Uh-huh. So, do you ever miss her?" Bruce asked innocently. Jack frowned up at him.

"_Miss_ her? Do you miss a case of the clap once it's gone?"

"Oh, now come on. She looked like a nice person, and she was certainly very pretty. Aside from her perfectly understandable reaction to finding out her husband was a hit man, was she really so bad?"

Jack sat up abruptly.

"Are you trying to get rid of me? Jeeze, Batsy, you could come up with something more pleasant than sending me back to my wife...."

"No, no, I'm just trying to understand. I mean, Rachel and I broke up but we're still friends...it's hard for me to imagine hating someone I used to love...."

"Ok, I don't HATE her, exactly. I just..." Jack ran his hand through his hair in frustration. What was Bruce up to? He'd already spilled his guts to him about the kid, why did he have to pick at his feelings about Beth, too?

"You care what happens to her," Bruce gently observed.

"Well...yeah. That's a bad neighborhood. She's kind of naive about...assholes, and yeah, she's kind of pretty...I just think about some of the men I used to...do business with...I don't know about this staying away thing, Bruce. I feel like I need to, you know, check in every once in a while."

"Jack...I told you I'd figure something out...."

"You _can't_. There _isn't _anything to figure out. And, I don't want to piss you off, but I don't know if I can stick with the promise I made...." There, he'd said it. And, he was irritated with himself--why did he care what Bruce thought? Why was he feeling bad about disappointing him? What happened to his determination to disappear after satisfying his lust for the man--which, admittedly, he hadn't quite done yet, but still...._Was this what being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne was going to be like? _

If so, it _sucked._

"It'll be all right." Bruce was cradling him close to his strong, warm body, lovingly caressing his back. All that and the scent of him, and his rhythmic breathing combined to lull Jack into a comatose sense of contentment. Fuck, the big guy was like some kind of recreational drug, and it would have pissed Jack off, except he was feeling so damn _good._..he sighed. Maybe Bruce _could _figure something out so that he could be sure his little boy was safe, that he had a decent future...if anyone could, he supposed, it would be Bruce.

* * *

Rachel Dawes sat in her office, her chin propped on one hand, drumming her fingers impatiently on her desk with the other as she stared at numerous stacks of papers. She had a ton of work to do, but she couldn't get into anything because Bruce was due to visit with her twenty minutes ago, and he _still_ hadn't shown up. She loved the man, but promptness was not his virtue. If he didn't appear in ten minutes, she'd...just then, her secretary buzzed to announce her guest's arrival.

"Thank you, Sheila. Please send him right in."

Bruce tapped on her door as he stepped in, smiling sheepishly.

"Is it safe to come in? Or should I be prepared to dodge flying paperweights?"

"Oh, it's fine, since when have you ever been on time?"

Bruce strode to kiss his friend on the cheek, and she returned the greeting.

"I really am sorry, traffic was insane...." Bruce apologized.

"You know what gets to me is that you let me go for months without so much as a single phone call, and then all of a sudden, it's _urgent!! _and you have to see me IMMEDIATELY...for heaven's sake, Bruce, what's the emergency?"

"It's not really an _emergency_...it's just that a situation has come up, and I need your professional advice. And...it's a sensitive matter. Highly, highly...sensitive." Bruce sat in the battered guest chair across from Rachel's desk and settled deeply into it. He didn't relish the thought of confiding anything about the Joker's situation with her, the relationship he shared with the clown least of all. But, he knew it would come out, it had to. He'd just have to accept Rachel's reaction, no matter what it would be.

"So, you're hiring me as your attorney?" Rachel asked, puzzled. Bruce had a fleet of attorneys at his beck and call at all times....

"Yes, and, by proxy, as someone else's, too...."

"Someone else's? Who?"

"Just a minute. Are you accepting me as a client?"

"Oh, yes, of course. What the HELL is this all about, you're starting to scare me...."

"Ok. Brace yourself...I know where the Joker is."

"Oh, my _God! _Bruce, you..._what do you MEAN you know where the Joker is?? _Why are you telling me this, why don't you go to the police??"

"Because, he's in my house."

Rachel stared open-mouthed at her old friend. For once, she was utterly speechless.

"What is he doing in your house?" she finally asked, feeling as though she had fallen down the rabbit hole and asking a simple question like that made perfect sense.

"Living there."

The two ex-lovers stared at each other, one bewildered, the other hopeful.

"Bruce, please tell me what this is all about," Rachel said in thinly-veiled exasperation.

"Ok. His name is Jack, by the way. As you know, I took an interest in his treatment and did what I could to help him. When he escaped, I was...disappointed, of course. But..._he_ found _me, _and I couldn't turn him away. I brought him to my home to keep him safe until I could figure out what to do with him...."

"Keep HIM safe? Bruce, that maniac has blown up whole sections of the city, he's blackmailed and extorted high officials, he's robbed banks....I hardly see how he's the one needing safe harbor...."

"I understand how it sounds, but he was treated very successfully while he was in the asylum, and his course of medication has kept him on an even keel since he's been out. He needs additional treatment, I'm sure, but he doesn't need to be locked up."

"That's _not _your call to _make! _Oh, my God, he could be doing _anything_ and you wouldn't know it...."

"He's not. He's doing really well. But, there's a situation...."

"_That's_ an understatement...."

"The Joker--Jack--has a son."

Rachel's eyes grew large.

"That's..._terrifying."_

"No, no, he's a little boy, he hasn't seen his dad in years, he's living a normal life with his mother, who appears to be a perfectly nice person, barring her bad choice of husbands...."

"Eww, he was married?"

"Yes...but, as I say, Jack hasn't been in contact with his child in a long time. And, he wants to be sure he's ok, and, although he hasn't said so in so many words, I think he would like to be able to be a part of the boy's life again...."

"You realize this is all crazy talk, right? You have clearly lost your mind...."

"Rachel, please. Jack was found not guilty by reason of insanity and sentenced to 'treatment in a psychiatric facility for the criminally insane until such time as he was found to no longer be a danger to himself or others.' Right?"

"Yes, but...."

"Well, he's no longer a danger!"

"Let's say for a moment--one insane moment--that that is correct. He still ran away from the asylum! I would say that negates any progress he might have made while he was a patient...."

"Well, that's something I want you to work on. Surely that offense could be diminished in light of how well he's doing?"

"Well...."

"And, if he were to be re-evaluated, and found to be well enough to be out, couldn't he petition for parental rights?"

"Good lord, Bruce, you're asking for the moon! And a couple of planets as well....From what you've said so far, I'll be lucky to keep YOU out of jail for abetting...."

"I know I'm asking a lot. Let me remind you, money is not a problem. And...I need you to think out of the box--be creative. And, protect both my and Jack's confidentiality and anonymity while you're researching...."

"Why don't I pull a perpetual-motion machine out of my ass while I'm at it?" Rachel asked bitterly.

"That's unnecessary...although Wayne Enterprises would certainly be interested in the patent if you come up with anything," Bruce grinned boyishly at her and she capitulated enough to return the smile.

"I can't promise anything, Bruce, I really have no clue how to help you. But, I'll try--if you'll answer one question for me."

"What's that?"

_"Why??_ Why in God's name do you care what happens to that man? What is the nature of your, uh, 'relationship'?"

"It's not easy to say this to you, Rachel. I could cook up some elaborate story, I suppose. But, I won't lie to you...."

"I'd appreciate that," Rachel quipped dryly.

"It's really very simple. I love him." Bruce hadn't meant to say that...but he realized it was true.

Rachel's jaw dropped and a strange little noise slipped out of her throat.

"Bruce...are you...are you saying you're..._gay?? _And that the _Joker..._is your _lover?"_ Rachel gasped in horror.

Bruce simply nodded.

"I can't believe it...I just can't believe it...."

"I know, and I'm so sorry to spring this on you. But...that's the situation. I'll deeply appreciate any help you can offer."

The assistant DA nodded numbly, and stared at Bruce in utter bewilderment. The billionaire smiled gently, stood and again kissed Rachel, this time on her forehead, before turning to leave.

"Bye, sweetie. Let me know when you have something, ok?"

She nodded absently, already turning over in her mind the legal resources she would need to begin tackling this bizarre case.

This had turned into a strange day, a very strange day indeed.


	17. How to Keep the Joker Busy?

**A/N: I am sooo, so sorry to take so long to update. Please, please review, let me know you're still out there!! Hugs! (puppy eyes...)**

**Warnings: This chapter has some alcohol and tobacco use, implied S&M, implied spanking, and general naughtiness, just so you know....Gosh, it feels good to get this story updated, yay....**

*** * ***

Alfred returned from the market loaded down with bags of groceries. He gratefully set them on the counter, realized he was smelling something out of place, and whirled around to see the Joker sitting at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette. The older man's eyebrows instantly knit together in disapproval.

"Master Wayne does _not_ like people smoking in his house," he stated firmly.

"Ummm...Master Wayne...is not..._here_," rejoined the Joker with a wink, as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Nevertheless, I...oh, good lord," Alfred muttered irritably as he noticed the Joker was using a saucer from Martha Wayne's wedding china as an ashtray. The butler rummaged in a cabinet for something more suitable, and snatched away the heirloom and replaced it with an actual ashtray.

"Thanks, that's _lots _better," quipped Jack sarcastically.

"Again, I really don't think Master Wayne would be happy to have his home stunk up with tobacco."

"Oh, relax. I just like to have a smoke with my booze," and with that, Jack raised a bottle of whiskey to his lips and took a long pull from it. Alfred recognized the bottle as a very old and rare one, clearly pilfered from Bruce Wayne's locked liquor cabinet.

Alfred's eyes widened in genuine concern.

"Jack! I know for a fact that you are NOT supposed to combine alcohol with your medications...."

"Aw, is that concern for my health I hear in your voice?"

"No, for _mine_. If something were to happen to you, Master Wayne would be most upset, and I would have to pick up the pieces."

Jack gave the butler a sneer of indifference.

"Look, pal, I'm not gonna do anything to hurt Bruce. He's been a real peach, looking after me, trying to help me....This is just...self-medication. Something to distract me from my troubles--believe me, you don't want me getting into anything more, uh, _interesting, _do you?" His words were slightly slurred, indicating that he had consumed quite a bit of the bottle's contents already.

Alfred took a seat at the table.

"The best thing you could do for Master Wayne is to _leave_," he said quietly.

The Joker narrowed his eyes at the older man.

"Oh, yeah? How's that?"

"Master Wayne has devoted his life to doing good for this city. You...you'll do nothing but bring him down. He deserves better."

Jack leaned back in his chair and thoughtfully took another puff off his cigarette and then another swig of whiskey, apparently giving great weight to Alfred's words. He pointed the cigarette meaningfully at the butler's face.

"You know, I thought you and I were doin' ok...gettin' to be buddies, almost. But, you really don't like me, do ya?"

"I don't like the things you've done, and I don't like that Bruce Wayne has put himself in a position to lose so much on account of you."

A slow grin crossed Jack's scarred face. He nodded knowingly.

"Oh, I get it....you can't stand the fact that Bruce and I fuck, can ya? That he sticks his big ol' dick up my ass practically every night? Tell me, do you ever hear us goin' at it? Does it make ya _sick?_....Or, do you wish you could watch...?"

Alfred took a deep calming breath, and hissed, "What Master Wayne does in his private life is his own affair. I'm simply concerned that he is going to be...disappointed in you. In your ability to maintain your tenuous grip on your sanity...I'm afraid you're going to hurt Bruce very badly, perhaps to the point that he won't recover_...that's _what I can't stand."

With that, Alfred stood up and began putting away the groceries.

Jack frowned. He didn't care what the older man thought of him, but the butler had put into words something that had nagged at the clown's subconscious for quite some time. What if the craziness _did_ take hold of him again? He wasn't getting therapy, his medications weren't being monitored...what if he _did_ do something to hurt Bruce? He sighed heavily.

"You think I should disappear?" he asked softly.

Alfred turned to look at the former madman.

_"Would _you?" he asked, amazed.

Jack looked up and Alfred could see genuine pain in his eyes.

"Yeah...I'd hit the road in a heartbeat if I thought I was going to screw up Bruce's life even worse than it already is. But...don't you think....don't you think...you know, he said he was going to help me get to see my kid again...I...I'd really like that...if I left, don't you think Bruce would feel _bad? _Don't you think...he cares about me, a little bit, maybe?"

The two looked at each other for a long moment.

"I think Master Wayne cares for you a great deal, and yes, I do think he'd feel terrible if you left, for a lot of reasons. Listen, mate...put away the booze. Have a little patience. I know Bruce is working very hard to find some way to help you see your little boy, and much as I worry about it all, I know it would mean a lot to him for you to be happy. So, please," Alfred reached for the bottle and Jack allowed him to take it, "don't wreck things now. Give Bruce a chance. He's given _you_ one."

Jack nodded quietly and stubbed out the cigarette. Alfred removed the ashtray and found some air freshener.

Jack put his head in his hands and combed his fingers through his tangled blond locks in frustration.

"I just can't sit here! I need something to _do_...I-I'm feeling completely useless unless Bruce is by my side...I can't stand that, do you know what I mean?" He looked at Alfred with raw emotion on his face.

Alfred nodded. He supposed he could empathize with the clown, no matter how much he resented his presence. And, all things considered, he knew Jack was doing his best _not _to disappoint Bruce....

"Talk to him. Tell him how you're feeling."

"There's nothing he can do...."

"Still. Talk to him. That's what people who care about each other _do...."_ Alfred reached out his hand and awkwardly patted the younger man on his shoulder. To the butler's distinct alarm, Jack rose quickly from the table, and for a terrifying moment, Alfred was certain a knife or fist was going to come into contact with his body, but instead, Jack threw himself into Alfred's arms and hugged him. He smelled heavily of alcohol and cigarette smoke, but after a shocked pause, Alfred gingerly patted his back.

"You're a real decent guy, you know that?" moaned Jack. "Real decent. If I'd of had someone like you around when I was growing up, maybe I wouldn't be so...so...you know, fucked up...." Jack pulled away and Alfred saw a tear glinting in the slight young man's eye.

"You've had a bit more to drink than I thought, 'aven't you, Jack?" the butler asked in amusement.

"Oh...yeah...I guess I'm pretty loaded...." Jack agreed.

"Why don't you go upstairs and take a nap, sleep it off, before Bruce comes home, eh? He wouldn't like to see you so upset...."

"Yeah...ok. Thanks, Alfred." Jack turned and wove his way slowly from the room.

Alfred watched him retreat, and shook his head worriedly.

Master Wayne had his work cut out for him, that much was certain.

* * *

Days passed.

One night, Rachel Dawes stood at the entry point for Bruce Wayne's penthouse. She had a briefcase full of papers and an _answer._ She didn't care what time it was, she was going to see Bruce and tell him of her findings. He had said to call--day or night--when she had something, but she was too excited to bother picking up the phone, and had headed over straight from her office, barely bothering to pick up her jacket on the way.

And, anyway, she was desperately curious to see the Joker in what was apparently his new habitat.

She pressed the buzzer and identified herself to a sleepy-sounding Alfred; he in turn pressed a button giving her access to the door, and within a few minutes, Rachel was standing in Bruce's living room. Alfred greeted her in a bathrobe and slippers.

"I'm afraid Master Wayne has already gone to bed--I'm going to have to go up and rouse him," Alfred stated, a trifle irritably, Rachel thought.

"Oh, please don't bother, I'll do it myself. Believe me, Bruce wants to see me, he won't care if I wake him up," Rachel assured the butler as she quickly sidestepped him and headed toward the stairs. Alfred's eyes widened as he suddenly grasped that Rachel intended to barrel up to Bruce's bedroom--the one he shared with the Joker, dear God--and he hastily scurried after her.

"Rachel, please, let me go up there, you're a guest--_I'll _get him to come down...." Alfred entreated.

"No, no, it's all right! Gosh, you think I'm scared of Bruce Wayne? Ha!" She had reached the top of the stairs, with Alfred close behind her, continuing to protest.

"It's not that, ma'am, it's just that--well, privacy, you know--there are certain protocols in this situation--I have specific instructions--please, for your own sake, miss, let _me_ ask him...."

Rachel was already at Bruce's bedroom door and she rapped loudly. Alfred stood worriedly behind her and they were both still for a moment, listening for a response to her knock. There was none, so Rachel rapped again, this time adding, "BRUCE! Wake UP! I have some information on Jack's case! OPEN THE DOOR!" There was a sound of rustling, a bed creaking, and suddenly the door opened a small crack.

"Whaddya want?" asked whoever was on the other side. All Rachel could see of him was a tangle of blond curls and a suspicious eye peering at her. In a rush of horror, she realized--this was the Joker! Unbound, unsupervised...a madman wandering free...yet, somehow, Bruce trusted him, apparently. Rachel steeled herself and, trying to assume her best assistant DA voice, made her own introduction.

"Ah...um, hello! I'm Rachel, is...is Bruce there?" she asked faltering awkwardly. Alfred attempted to put himself between her and the presence at the door, but failed.

"Yeah, yeah, I know you. Listen, sweetheart, I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you don't just go banging on a man's bedroom door in the middle of the fucking night. Your ex-boyfriend needs his beauty sleep, now fuck off, will ya?" The door slammed behind him.

Alfred stepped forward. He cleared his throat and called firmly, "Jack, Rachel has some rather important news, will you please ask Master Wayne to meet us downstairs?"

They heard some muffled voices--one of which sounded unintelligible and strained--and more bed creaking. The Joker returned to the door, this time fully opening it to reveal two very disturbing sights; one, himself, in leather chaps--nothing underneath--and a steel-studded black leather vest, and two, Bruce trussed up on the bed, naked, face-down with a ball-gag in his mouth. He was red-faced and futilely attempting to yell around the gag.

The Joker glanced back at his captive, and waved dismissively. "What's that, angel? I can't understand you." He turned back to the pair at the door and in a loud aside said, "I think he wants to say something, let me check," he winked and walked over to the bed and leaned down. Rachel tried not to enjoy the sight of Jack's firm, round rear end as he retreated, and tried to erase the alarming memory of what she'd seen at the front of his revealing outfit.

Chuckling, the Joker removed the gag, and Bruce's first sputter of words was rather incomprehensible, although the gist of it was lost on no one, basically a simple promise of painful death for Jack following a lengthy and detailed bout of devious torture. After a few garbled exclamations, he clearly stated, "JACK! UNTIE ME RIGHT NOW, YOU FUCKING _IDIOT!"_ Jack sat on the bed and began doing just that, all the while humming cheerfully.

"There ya go, big guy! Here, let me get your robe," Jack snorted in barely-contained glee, dodging as Bruce took a vicious swipe at his head. He glanced back at the pair in the doorway, who were turning to make a hasty retreat. "Hey, you two better stick around if you don't want to have to testify at his trial. I assume he'd at _least_ be arrested if he actually killed me, huh?" the Joker chortled, gingerly handing Bruce his robe, trying to stay out of range of his fist.

Bruce took the proffered cover-up, and hissed, "Put your clothes on, freak," before slipping on the garment and standing up. Without looking at his guest or his butler, he grabbed his discarded underwear, trousers and shirt from the floor and headed to the bathroom to dress. The Joker, snickering nastily, began gathering his own clothes, but was apparently missing an item.

"Bruu-uuce! Whaddya do with my pants?" he asked plaintively. No answer came from the bathroom. "Aw, come on, you threw 'em somewhere, where'd....ah, here we go." Rachel watched in a combination of distaste and interest as he knelt to reach under the bed, his bare ass sticking up in the air for a moment. He pulled out a pair of worn jeans, stood and headed for the privacy of the bathroom as well, smiling lasciviously at Rachel as he passed her.

Without the clown make up, she thought in amusement, he wasn't a bad-looking fellow. She glanced at Alfred before realizing that she was grinning a bit more broadly than was appropriate, and quickly smoothed her face into a placid, neutral expression. Alfred rolled his eyes.

She heard some words exchanged in the bathroom, sounds of a struggle, then a series of sharp "smack!"-ing sounds as of a hand repeatedly striking firm bare flesh, then a theatrical howl of pain followed by maniacal laughter, and soon Bruce strode out fully dressed, a malevolent glare on his face.

"Let's go downstairs, shall we?" he asked brusquely, rubbing his right hand as if it smarted. "Jack, you wretched bastard, stay up here," he ordered grimly as his lover reappeared, now wearing jeans and a t-shirt, ruefully rubbing his bottom.

Jack frowned. "Why? I thought this was about me."

"It is, but I want to hear what Rachel has to say without your interruptions and bullshit. Just stay here, I'll call you when we need you. _If _we need you," the dark-haired man spat in a renewed swell of barely concealed temper.

Abruptly, Bruce headed out of the room, leaving Rachel and Alfred to awkwardly nod at Jack, turn, and follow Bruce downstairs.

Jack obediently stayed in the bedroom, and a slow grin crossed his face as the throbbing heat from the sting of Bruce's hand on his back cheeks began to subside.

Their little game had already proved to be lots of fun. He'd had no idea it could be even more fun with an audience! Bruce really _was _a good sport....

Chucking, he lay down on the bed, switched on the TV with the remote, and, began to mull over what could possibly be going on downstairs. He tried to relax, but there was now a worried frown on his scarred but handsome face, as he settled in to await whatever news Rachel Dawes brought with her, hoping it was something good.


	18. The Plan

**A/N: So sorry for the long time between updates. Thank you for hanging in there!!**

**Seds**

*******

Bruce, Rachel and Alfred gathered around the kitchen table and Rachel began pulling papers out of her briefcase, sorting them carefully into neat piles as the two men watched. Bruce's mouth was set in a tense line.

Rachel regarded her paper stacks with satisfaction. She glanced at her audience and took a deep breath. "All right. The way I see it, we have a three-fold challenge as far as the Joker is concerned. One, he escaped from Arkham. Two, he's a barely-under-control criminal and lunatic. Three, his ex apparently hates him and no doubt would prefer never to have her son lay eyes on him again. Correct?" Rachel's eye caught Bruce's and she barely managed to contain a smirk. She'd never be able to look at him the same way again.

Bruce saw her look and silently cursed the Joker, wishing he could excuse himself for a moment to go beat the living daylights out of him. _Later_, he promised himself soothingly. "That sums it up pretty well."

"Well. I just discovered this morning that there was a raid on a mob hang out on East 58th Street. That's not very far from here. There was evidence that two men were being held captive there. The body of one was found in the trunk of a car, but the other man hasn't been found." Rachel smiled smugly, waiting for Bruce to grasp her meaning. He stared at her.

"So? How does that help anything?"

"Don't you see? You take the Joker in and say you found him wandering the streets in a daze. He can claim amnesia--the story will be that the mob guys kidnapped him from Arkham to get revenge, or torture some information out of him, or whatever the hell you want to say, and were keeping him a prisoner. Get it?"

Alfred had finally forced the image of his naked, bound and prone employer from his mind and was frowning in concentration. "So, he could not be held responsible for his unauthorized departure from the asylum..."

"Right. All the potential witnesses were killed in the raid, so there's no one to refute the story. The other captive is either dead or on the lam, and I'm sure he has no desire to talk to the cops. Of course, it would help to rough up your, uh, 'friend' a bit, first. To make it look more authentic. Somehow, I don't think you'll have a problem with that." Rachel's smirk finally found it's way to her face and Bruce reddened considerably. "Put some ligature marks on his wrists, a black eye or two and it'll be perfect."

Bruce shot her a sour look. "Ok, but all that does is put the Joker right back in Arkham, which I can assure you, he will NOT be happy about."

"True. But--what if there was a way to limit the time he'd have to spend there, _and_ get him legitimate, ongoing therapy and proper medication from now on? Wouldn't he be willing to do that if it meant the possibility of getting to be a part of his son's life again? Not to mention being able to, you know, live a more or less 'normal' life--with _you--_down the road?_"_

Bruce stared at the table, biting his lip. "Well... Jack's not one for delayed gratification. But, yeah, he _might _go for it, depending... How in hell do you think we could pull that off?"

Clearly pleased with herself, Rachel pulled a piece of paper from the top of one of her stacks. "Remember Dr. Schwartz?" she asked Bruce.

"Sure, he's the doctor I was personally paying to care for Jack while he was in Arkham."

"Right. Well, apparently, he originally agreed to take the case, not just for the money, but because he had been developing a system of treatment back in Germany that he wanted to try out on a real live American psychopath. And, obviously, he couldn't have asked for a better one than the Joker."

Bruce looked quizzically at Rachel.

"Is that why Jack improved so quickly?"

"Yes, so it would seem. Dr. Schwartz was devastated when the Joker disappeared, he was so close to moving forward with a broader patient base. But, he's willing to work out a new program, tailored just for him--one year in-patient at Arkham, followed by a trial six month out-patient period, which of course, would be supervised by the GPD.

"He'd have to wear an ankle monitor, check in daily, there'd be surprise case-worker visits, the whole bit. But--if he succeeds in all of that, he would then be placed on a three-year probation, and at the end of that time a hearing would be held to decide whether he was competent to be under his own custody. Assuming he did well--he would be released. Completely."

Bruce shook his head in amazement.

"And, Arkham and the Commissioner would go along with that?"

"Dr. Schwartz had it all planned out and approved before the Joker went missing."

"Damn, that's amazing. So...what about Ethan, Jack's son? How does he figure into all this?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked." Rachel rifled through another stack until she found the sheet she wanted. "Under Gotham Family Law statutes, if a parent is in a mental health treatment facility and found not to be a threat to him/herself or others, that parent can petition for court-mandated supervised visitations within the facility. In other words, the Joker could force his wife to let him see his son under very limited conditions, within Arkham."

"No... fucking... _way_..." a nasal voice intoned. All three turned to look at the Joker, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and a defiant expression on his face.

"Jack, just a minute..." cautioned Bruce.

"No just a minute, I'm not having my kid see me in the loony bin. In fact, I'm not stepping foot in the nut hatchery ever again, unless you tie me up and drop me off there, and then I won't stay long. I'll be out and gone and you'll never see me again."

"Joker--uh, Jack, " Rachel said quickly, "please give this a chance! You have so much to gain. Sit down and I'll go over all this with you..."

"No thanks, gorgeous, I heard enough. Include me out of your little scheme, I'm not buying it. In fact, it's beginning to look like I should just hit the road right now. Before Bat-brain gets any more ideas." He turned and started heading toward the front door, apparently intent on walking straight out into the night. Bruce abruptly shot out of his chair and strode over to him. He grabbed his arm before he got his hand on the knob.

"Listen to _me. _You do _not _want to do this. You do _not_. Please, Jack, turn around, come here, come here," Bruce's voice dropped to a soothing tone and he put his hands on Jack's shoulders. The clown reluctantly stopped and turned to look Bruce in the eye.

"What? What makes you think I could live up to those expectations, huh? I'm barely holding it together now, how do you think I'd do in captivity? Hm? I couldn't go through that again, even if I wanted to. I'd just fuck everything up, and make it worse. You're better off without me, and so is Ethan. Maybe you could, you know, keep on eye on him for me, huh? If I knew you were looking out for him, I could disappear for good and not think twice about it. I'd just... disappear." He stared intently, and Bruce shook his head.

"No, Jack. Your son--is your _son. _He should know his father. And... I don't want to lose you, I've told you that. I meant it. Please. Come back in here and let Rachel go over everything for you. You can do this. Think about it--the day could come that I could take you to a restaurant--to a movie--we could walk down the street together--and not have to worry about you being arrested. We could even go on vacations together... I _want _that. Don't you?"

Jack didn't say anything. Bruce firmly gripped his arm and led him back to the kitchen, and gently pushed him into a chair. He refused to look at anyone and Rachel glanced at Bruce questioningly. He nodded and she began at the beginning, explaining each facet of the plan carefully. Jack didn't interrupt, but appeared not to be listening to a word that she said. When Rachel finished, the room was dead quiet.

Finally, Jack said in a low voice to Bruce, "You think I can do this?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"You really think they can make Beth bring my kid to see me?" he asked Rachel.

"Yes, as long as you're cooperating with your doctor and the court."

"And, if I do--someday--get released? Would she still have to let me see him?"

Rachel's face fell. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying to find the right words.

"If you are no longer in a supervised in-patient treatment program... it will be up to a judge to decide about visitation and custody. And, of course--your past will be taken into account... No, there's no guarantee you would continue to get to see him."

The room fell silent again.

Then Rachel added, "Of course, by that time you would have had at least four and a half years of court-mandated visits. You might be able to convince your ex that... that your son _should _continue to get to see you. And, if nothing else, you'll have a chance to establish a relationship with Ethan so that he might want to get you back into his life once he becomes an adult."

The Joker made a derisive snort and sighed heavily.

"Ok." His voice was almost inaudible, but Bruce heard him clearly, and he gratefully pulled him into his arms and pressed his face against his scarred cheek.

"It's going to be ok. It's going to work out, you just wait and see. I'll do everything I can to help you, I'll be there for you every step of the way," Bruce assured him.

Jack looked up, first at Alfred, then at Rachel before turning his head so that he could speak directly into Bruce's ear. "And, you think it'll be worth it?" he whispered skeptically.

Bruce pulled back to look deeply into his eyes. "Yes. I think you're worth it. Please, Jack. Believe in yourself, and believe in me." He was silent for a long moment then took a deep breath. "I love you, Jack. I love you." Everyone at the table heard him. Jack turned his head back and forth like a dog trying to understand his human. He finally answered:

"And you think I'm the one who needs to be in the loony-bin."

Bruce broke into a broad smile and hugged him again. Rachel watched the Joker slowly put his arms around Bruce and tentatively return the hug.

He didn't like it, not one bit. But he'd do it. He'd do it for Bruce and he'd do it for Ethan. And maybe, a little bit, for himself.

Maybe.


	19. Beth

**A/N: Hello all. Just a quick update. Please tell me what you think! Thanks for reading!**

**Seds**

*******

"Beth Kendall here, how can I help you?" The pretty blonde school teacher had been summoned out of class for a phone call in the principal's office.

"Miss Kendall? Hello, this is Bruce Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne?" Beth frowned. Of course she knew the name, he was in the papers all the time, but why would such a man be calling her? "You mean, 'the' Bruce Wayne?"

"Yes, sadly, we haven't met, but I was given your name as a contact for the local Parent/Teacher initiative. I have some charitable funds earmarked for education and I was hoping we could meet to discuss an idea I have."

"Oh! Well, certainly. That… that would be wonderful." Beth scrabbled around for something to write with as she tried to maintain a calm demeanor. She gestured at Anne, the secretary, who handed her a pen and a scrap of paper.

"What would be a good time for you?"

"Uh--well, my son has soccer practice after school today, so--"

"Perfect, I'll meet you at the ball field."

"Really?" A billionaire willing to go to a kid's soccer practice? Crazy.

"Sure, we can chat while your son plays."

"Uh--ok, that would be great."

Beth gave Bruce the address of the soccer field and hung up the phone. She stood there with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Everything all right?" Anne asked.

"Uh-huh. Bruce Wayne wants to meet with me about the Parent/Teacher project."

"Bruce Wayne, the billionaire? Get out of here."

"No, really. He's meeting me at Ethan's practice after school."

Anne stared at her with her mouth open.

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"Wow! You better go home right now."

Beth cocked her head. "Why?"

"Girl, you have to look good. That man is rich and single--this could be your big chance!"

Beth laughed. "Oh, for heaven's sake. He's got a dozen supermodels and ballerinas on the string at any given time, he wouldn't look twice at me."

"Stranger things have happened, honey. I'd hit the mall for a complete makeover if I were you."

"That's ridiculous, and anyway, I don't have time."

"Well, you're going to change clothes, aren't you?"

"What's wrong with these?" Beth glanced down at her skirt, blouse and sensible shoes.

Anne rolled her eyes. "They're fine. Billionaires love schoolmarms."

"This is who I am. What do you want me to do, put on an evening gown and high heels to climb up the bleachers? Oh, crap, I've got to get back to class. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."

"At least put on some freakin' lipstick!" Anne called to the retreating figure. She shook her head. "Some people have all the luck."

***

Bruce hung up the phone and looked at Rachel as she walked in. "I'm meeting her at Ethan's soccer practice."

"Oh, Bruce, good Lord. How do you think you're going to have this conversation at a place like that?"

"What would you suggest? Where's a good place to tell a woman that her ex-husband-the-homicidal-maniac wants to have his son visit him in an institution for the criminally insane?"

Rachel shrugged. "I don't know why you're bothering. The court will send her a notice. She really doesn't have any choice."

Bruce sighed.

***

It had been six weeks since the Joker had been reinstated in Arkham. They had followed Rachel's plan carefully—Bruce had created an authentically beaten and ligature-marked Joker, which had led to a frantic round of sex in which they nearly decided to just leave the country together and forget the whole thing. But Bruce had somehow managed to get control of the situation and put them back on track.

He'd dressed as Batman, clamped a pair of cuffs on the Joker's wrists, and drove him straight to Arkham.

Perhaps it was sheer relief at getting the Joker back into custody that smoothed the way, but both the police and the Arkham staff bought the story. Bruce Wayne later appeared and made sure Dr. Schwartz was still available to oversee the Joker's treatment—the man was pathetically happy to have him back—and through it all the Joker had woodenly cooperated. The only clue to his feelings was the disquieting way he stared at Bruce.

Bruce had waited until they had the Joker placed in a locked ward and then he'd quietly bribed the attendant to let him see him.

He was sitting on the bed wearing white patient's garb. The last glow of sunset had shone on his scarred face as he gazed blankly out the barred window. Bruce had sat down next to him and wrapped his arms around him. He was stiff and silent and distant.

"It's going to be ok," Bruce had whispered. "They'll get you back on the right meds, get the treatment plan going again. You'll feel better in no time. Then we'll work on getting Ethan here to see you. Think about it, Jack—seeing your little boy again. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Numbly, the Joker had nodded. Entering Arkham's gates, he'd wanted to die. But somehow, as always, Bruce knew just what to say to make him think that that was wrong, that he wanted to live. That he had something to live for. He'd put one hand on Bruce's arm and squeezed. Bruce had kissed him and left him, promising to be back the next day.

And, now, six weeks later, things were going better than Bruce had hoped. The doctors' reports were all encouraging, and the Joker himself had begun to smile and joke when Bruce came to see him. Bruce had learned his lesson from before and made time to visit him regularly. So much so that the nurses again had taken to letting him come and go as he pleased. They quickly learned to turn a deaf ear to the late-night howls and shrieks of pleasure that often erupted from behind the Joker's closed door, and to hide their smiles when Bruce Wayne would finally emerge with a goofy grin on his face, fastidiously straightening his rumpled clothes.

Everything was going better than expected, and then one day the Joker had said, "So—when do I get to see my kid?"

Bruce's heart had sunk. Rachel had petitioned the judge for a court order, and with the positive reports coming from the doctors, she was sure it would come through any day.

But Bruce had cringed at the thought of the poor woman—the mother of the Joker's child—learning that her dangerous ex was not only demanding to see his son, but had the backing of the Gotham legal system behind him. It would have to be a shock, and would surely be traumatic for the boy to see his mother so upset.

So, Bruce had decided to visit her.

He'd asked Rachel to do it, or at least to go with him, but ethically, she couldn't. She'd stared at him in dismay when he announced that he would go alone, and they'd been wrangling over the idea for two days...

***

Rachel took one last stab at discouraging Bruce from his unwise decision.

"Bruce, what do you hope to accomplish? She doesn't know you, and I can't imagine that it will help for her to know that Gotham's most famous billionaire is on the Joker's side. You'll only intimidate her more."

"I suspect that the woman who married the Joker isn't one to be easily intimidated," Bruce pointed out with a smile. "As I've said, I just want to talk to her, tell her about Jack, how he is today. Try to ease her mind and let her know that he's not going to hurt her or Ethan."

"I doubt there's anything you can say or do that will make her believe that."

Bruce nodded thoughtfully, then spoke, as if to himself. "She's the only person in the world who knew Jack before… She must have loved him, once. I think she'll be ok with it once she sees that he's doing so well."

Rachel watched Bruce's face. "Oh--I get it now. You're not doing this for her. You're doing this for you!"

"_What?"_

"You want to assure yourself that you're not crazy, don't you? For loving the Joker? You see her as a kindred spirit, and—"

"Don't be ridiculous."

Rachel held her tongue, but shook her head. Bruce looked at her uncomfortably. "All right, I may have ulterior motives. To be honest, I'd like to meet the boy. After all, it's possible one day he'll be my stepson."

Rachel's eyes widened.

"Oh, God. Why is it every time I talk to you lately I feel like Alice down the rabbit hole?"

"Bear with me, Rachel. I'm just trying to do the right thing. And don't you agree that if I can establish some sort of relationship with Beth ahead of time, she'll be less inclined to fight the situation? Won't that be better for everyone?"

"I—yes, of course. But just remember—money can't buy everything."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"If you're planning to bribe her into cooperating, you may find you just make things worse."

Bruce gave her an annoyed frown. "Believe it or not, I do know that. I just want to talk to her."

"Ok. Well, good luck with that."

"Thanks. Your faith in me is heartwarming."

Rachel broke into a wide grin. "I do have complete faith in your ability to be a top-notch bullshit artist. Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all."

Bruce nodded and gave her a quick hug.

"There's a lot at stake here. Not the least of which is the safety of Gotham."

Rachel stared questioningly.

"If Beth turns Ethan against Jack ahead of time, he'll have no motivation to stay in Arkham, to stay in treatment. He'll escape again and God only knows what would happen then."

"Good point. Ok, lay on the charm. I'll think positive thoughts for you."

"Much appreciated. Now--what does one wear to a soccer field?"

"Considering the conversation you're going to have? Lots of padding."

They grinned at each other and headed their separate ways.


	20. Bad Jokes

**A/N: Hello, as always, sorry to take so long to update. Thank you to everyone for reading, special thanks to Nooks for the gentle kick in the pants to get going again. **

**A couple of warnings--a little sexy stuff toward the end. And, some mild (I think) S&M business involving a cigarette.**

**Please let me know what you think!!**

**Seds**

*****

Beth stood by the bleachers, nervously dividing her attention between watching Ethan's pre-practice antics with his friends and the parking lot. A flashy sports car drove up and parked, and a tall dark-haired man emerged. Even at a distance, it was clear that Bruce Wayne truly was a very handsome man. She hastily dug in her handbag for her little-used tube of lipstick, but his long strides brought him too close too soon for her to discretely apply it, so she tossed the bag at her feet and turned to greet him with an outstretched hand.

"Mr. Wayne? I'm Beth Kendall."

"Hello, Miss Kendall. Please, call me Bruce." He shook her hand warmly.

"All right, and I'm Beth. Wow, I can't believe you were willing to come all the way out here!"

"Oh, well, I've learned to grab opportunities as they come. If you don't, everything seems to go on interminably."

"That's true, isn't it? So--how did you hear about the Parent/Teacher initiative?"

Bruce glanced around, searching for Ethan. He was running after a ball, but his curly blond hair was impossible to miss. "Someone who works for me brought it to my attention. I liked it because it sounded like a very organized group, getting a lot done."

"Well, I think we are. There are a lot of good people willing to lend a hand, so..."

"How did you get started?" Bruce was hoping he would find a way to smoothly transition the conversation to his real purpose.

A shadow crossed Beth's face. "I--uh, well, a few years ago my marriage ended and I was suddenly a single mom. Money was tight. But when I started teaching, I found that there were many families far worse off than Ethan and I. I could see that they were struggling to come up with basic things like school supplies and lunch money, even with government assistance. I got together with other teachers and some of the more financially secure parents and we pooled funds and bought school supplies at a quantity discount, then sold them to the students for cost. It's been working really well."

Bruce nodded. "Yes, and that's where I think Wayne Enterprises can help. We recently acquired an office supply chain and I was thinking we could donate supplies to your initiative in exchange for a small credit in the PTA bulletin."

"Oh, Mr. Wayne, that would be fabulous! Of course, that's perfect--"

"I also have a small check for you." Bruce pulled a check out of his pocket made out to the school organization with quite a few zeroes following the first number. "I was thinking it could contribute to some sort of nutritional program, but I'm sure you're the right person to figure out where this is most needed."

Beth took the check and looked up at Bruce with an open mouth.

"Mr. Wayne! Small! This is--this is amazingly generous. This is fantastic! You can't imagine what this will mean to so many struggling families--"

"Well, the children are our future. They'll be choosing our old-age homes, won't they?"

Beth laughed, still overwhelmed. "Yes, I suppose so. I just--"

"Mom! Mom! Mom! Where're my shin guards?" Ethan came racing up to Beth's side.

"Oh, baby, aren't they're in the equipment bag?"

"And, who's this?" Bruce asked.

"This is Ethan. Ethan, this is Bruce Wayne. He's helping us with our Parent/Teacher project."

"Hi." The boy unhesitatingly stuck out his hand and Bruce gave it a firm shake. Ethan looked up at Bruce and Bruce smiled down at him. It was like looking into Jack's eyes on a good day.

"Hello, Ethan, it's nice to meet you."

"Yeah. Hey, Mom--"

"Here they are, son. Hurry up, coach is calling you."

The boy dropped to the ground and hastily pulled on the guards and then ran off again.

"I'd love to have his energy," Bruce said.

"Me, too. He's a real wild man, there's not enough hours in the day for him."

"I can imagine."

Beth stood awkwardly for a moment, then said, "Well, I guess you've got a busy evening ahead of you, so--"

"Oh, well, actually, I have something else I'd like to discuss with you."

"Really?"

Bruce looked at Beth. She had a delicate face with large blue eyes and full lips, and a slim figure. Bruce smiled slightly. _I can see how Jack would go for her_, he thought. "Yes. It's... Well, it's a bit difficult."

"What is it?" Beth frowned.

"I--well, I know your--I know Ethan's father."

Beth's expression turned to surprise, tinged with suspicion.

"What? How could you, he's--"

"He's in Arkham."

"Yes, finally. Again. Where he belongs. How do _you_ know him?"

"It's a long story. But I took an interest in his case when... You see, I was learning about Gotham's mental health facilities as part of a project I was working on--" Bruce thought of Rachel's comment regarding his bullshitting abilities and hoped she was right--"and I found Arkham's to be deplorable. Jack was being--well, they weren't taking very good care of him."

"Good. He deserves whatever he gets." Beth clenched her jaw and turned away, her arms folded over her chest.

"He--I don't agree. Arkham's supposed to help its patients, not abuse them. I stepped in and... I got to know him."

Beth turned back, her eyes flashing.

"Did you? Really? Did you get to know how crazy he is? How violent? Have you ever seen him with a knife in his hand, or a gun? He's a murderer, Mr. Wayne. A cold-blooded murderer."

"I know what he was. But--"

"Do you have any idea what it was like for me after he escaped? I couldn't relax for a second. Every noise, every shadow--I was sure he was coming back to kill me."

Bruce looked into her eyes and saw the still-raw pain. "Why would he want to kill you?"

Beth stared out toward the field. "I took his son away from him. He hated me for that. But, he's irrational anyway, you wouldn't believe the things he's done."

"Did he--hurt you? Or Ethan?"

Beth faltered slightly. "No. No. He... He never did that. But, you don't have to touch someone to hurt them. He was jealous and controlling, he couldn't stand it if another man looked at me. Once, I came home to find he'd cornered the mailman and was threatening him with a meat cleaver because he thought he'd flirted with me! I had to go to the post office for weeks to get our mail."

Bruce tried to hide a grin. He could just see Jack wielding a kitchen weapon over the poor mail carrier.

"And--he lied to me about his so-called 'work.' I--I was stupid, I should have seen it, should have figured it out, but I guess I didn't want to know. I should have gotten out long before, but..." She trailed off and Bruce finished her thought. "But, you loved him."

She bit her lip, and nodded. "Yes."

"He loves Ethan."

She sighed. "I know he does. But if he wanted to be a part of his life, he should have--"

"He should have what?"

"He should have gotten help a long time ago." She turned away again.

"You agree that he's ill, then?"

"Of course. He wasn't--he wasn't like that when I met him. He was--God, he was wonderful. Unpredictable, but...exciting. Sweet, funny--he made me feel--oh, boy, I can't believe I'm saying this now, but--he made me feel safe. Like nothing bad could ever happen to us. And when Ethan came along, he was--he was just the best dad. He loved that boy... He loved him so much. And Ethan loved him." She stared at the ground, her voice now low.

"I don't know what happened, but he changed. I watched it happen, day by day. I didn't want to believe it, I ignored everything, hoping it would go away, that he'd get past the bad patch and be himself again. But, one day..."

"You couldn't ignore it anymore."

"No. And I couldn't take a chance--I couldn't risk Ethan being hurt. I left. Jack went crazy, well, crazier. I had to get a restraining order, I finally had to leave town. I only came back after they locked him up the first time, there was a job offer that I couldn't pass up and I thought we'd be safe, never thinking he'd be able to get out. Of course, he did. He would."

Bruce nodded. "But, he's back in there, now. And, he's doing really well. The treatment he's been under has helped him so much--"

"Well, good for him," Beth snapped bitterly. "So, is this why you're really here? To speak on his behalf? What does he want? He's not trying to get me back, is he?"

"N-no, no. He knows it's over between the two of you. But--he wants to see Ethan." He said it as gently as possible, but even so, he could see a frightened look pass over Beth's face, followed by anger.

_"No. _No way. No _way. _That treatment's not working as well as you say if he thinks I would bring Ethan anywhere near him--"

"Beth." Bruce used a level tone. "He has a right to see him."

"Right? That's ridiculous, he's a criminal--"

"Even so. He's in a treatment facility and Gotham law says he has the right to supervised visitation. I know this is a shock, but there's going to be a court order, and I wanted to--"

"Oh, my God, they can do that? They could force me to make my son visit a madman in an asylum? No, that's insane. Impossible. I won't do it, I'll leave town--"

"Beth, please."

"No! I vowed I would protect my son, no matter what, and I won't expose him to that--that _monster."_

"He's not. He's working so hard to get well, and he's doing it for his son." Bruce looked into Beth's eyes. "And, I can't help but think that Ethan would benefit from knowing his dad."

Beth stared blankly at Bruce. "Benefit? Oh, I don't think so. Uh-uh, I'm going to spend the rest of his growing-up years preventing him from knowing the truth about his father. I don't want him to think he's going to end up like him, or to be shamed by things that aren't his fault. No, Mr. Wayne, I'll fight this. I'm not going to let my little boy in the presence of that maniac ever again."

Bruce sighed and said gently, "You'll be held in contempt of court. If you leave town, a warrant will be issued. You don't want to put Ethan through something like that."

Beth's mouth fell open. "I cannot believe this is happening," she gasped.

"I know, I know. That's why I came here. I thought I could help you to understand. Jack wants Ethan to be safe and happy. Surely you can't blame him for wanting to see him again, can you? And, it will be safe, completely safe. He won't be alone with him. You'll be there, I'll be there--"

Beth looked at him. "Why would you be there?"

Bruce shrugged. "I told you. I've been involved in his case and he's come to trust me. I think my presence will help keep things calm. He's worried that Ethan will hate him. I've tried to convince him that it won't be like that. It won't be, will it?" Bruce gave her a searching look. Beth pursed her lips. "Beth--what have you told Ethan about his father?"

"Nothing, not really. I told him that something happened with his work, and that he had to go away suddenly. Whenever he asks about him, I just say I don't know what happened. That he didn't want to leave him, but he had to. And, that he loved him. That's all." She took a deep breath. "Thankfully, he doesn't ask much anymore."

Bruce nodded. "I'm sorry, I know this is upsetting. I just--I just wanted you to know that Jack wouldn't hurt Ethan. And that I'll be available to help in any way I can." Beth refused to look at him and he decided to give up and leave. He turned and started to head toward the parking lot when Beth spoke, her voice strained with the effort of suppressing tears.

"Mr. Wayne, wait. Obviously, I don't have a choice. But, you don't know what I've been through. You say it will be safe. I sincerely hope you'll make sure that that's true. If anything happens to my son--"

"It won't."

Beth stared at him, her lip trembling. "He's all I have," she whispered.

Bruce strode back to her and took her hands in his, squeezing them tightly. "I promise you this. Ethan will be safe. Jack will be fine. And, anything I can do to make things easier, like paying for counseling, or facilitating communication, I'll do it, anything you want." He gave her hands another squeeze, then fumbled in his pocket for a business card and gave it to her. She stared blankly at it.

"Call me anytime," Bruce continued. "I want this to be a good thing for everyone, and I'm willing to do whatever's necessary. You have my word on that."

He smiled reassuringly then turned and headed for his car. Beth didn't try to stop him. The tears ran down her face and she picked up her handbag to find a tissue.

***

Bruce headed straight for Arkham. It wasn't one of his usual visiting days, but he had to see Jack. He had to tell him what he had done, and he had to reassure himself that he could make good on his promises to Beth.

He arrived at the asylum and checked in. A nurse met him at the front desk.

"He's outside in the courtyard," she explained.

Bruce smiled. "Smoking, I guess."

"Oh, I imagine. He says he's communing with nature, but I think he's communing with tobacco, myself."

She took him to the yard and led him to where Jack was sitting, cigarette in hand.

"Mr. J? You have a visitor."

The Joker looked up and shot a suspicious glare at Bruce. "What the hell? This isn't Thursday."

"Can't I come to see you unexpectedly once in a while?"

"Sure, except you've come to see me unexpectedly exactly, oh, let's see now, _never, _so what's up?"

"Could we go back to your room?"

Another suspicious look. "Yeah." He ground out his cigarette and indicated that the nurse should unlock the door back into the building. She took them to the Joker's room and let them in. The Joker turned to Bruce with an intense stare.

"All right, spill it. What's going on?"

Bruce actually felt nervous. "I went to see your, uh--I went to see Beth, today."

Bruce couldn't remember ever having seen real surprise in the Joker's eyes before. "You did _what?"_

"I wanted to let her know what was going on, I wanted to prepare her--"

"Are you out of your mind? You gave her lead time? She'll hit the road so fast, it'll make your head spin. She'll--"

"No, Jack, she won't. I talked to her about the consequences if she did that, and she understands that she would be breaking the law--"

"You are one crazy fucker. So, you told her she'd have to bring my kid up here to see me. All right, what did she say?"

"She--she wasn't happy."

"Oh, there's a shock."

"But, I told her how much you wanted to see Ethan, and how well you were doing."

"Uh-huh."

"And I really think she'll be ok with it after she's had a chance to think it over."

"Wayne, you are an idiot." The Joker shook his head and walked over to the window. "She'll tell Ethan what a creep I am. She'll turn him against me so that he won't want to come, so that he'll be scared of me. He'll hate me even more than he already does."

"I don't think so." Bruce went to him and put his arms around him, hugging him from behind. "I don't think he hates you, and she wouldn't do that to him in the first place. She's smart enough to know that no little boy wants to hate his father..."

"You don't know her! Aw, fuck it. Look, just call the whole thing off. I'd rather he remember me from when he was little than see me in here like this anyway. I knew this was a mistake."

"No, Jack, it isn't. It's going to be ok." Bruce made him turn around and gathered him close, then kissed him. Jack pulled away and jerked out of his embrace.

"Sorry if I'm not a wide-eyed innocent like you, Brucie. I know her, I know how she is. She'll fuck this up for me, and that'll be it. She'd love to make me miserable if she had the chance. And Ethan's the only weapon she's got." He strode over to the bed and sat on the edge, running his hands over his scars. Bruce followed.

"Jack--" A fist came out of nowhere and met Bruce's jaw. He stumbled backward and managed to right himself just as another came at him. He blocked it and shoved the Joker aside. He attacked again, and Bruce wrestled with him, finally forcing him onto his back on the bed, with the Joker's wrists pinned to the mattress.

"Stop it! Stop it, Jack, calm down. I know what you're doing--"

"I'm beating the shit out of you, or I would if you'd let me up--"

"Jack, no. You're not going to do this." Bruce stared down into his eyes, straddling him to keep him still.

"Not going to do what?"

"You're not going to make me call the orderlies to come in here and take you to lock down. You are not. I won't let you."

"Now, why would I want to do that?"

"Because that would call into question whether you're capable of handling a visit with your son. Because you'd save yourself from doing something positive with your life. Because you could prove me wrong. But, I'm not wrong. And I'm not going to let you fuck this up. I'm not."

The Joker continued to struggle for a time, then settled down and lay still, panting from the exertion. He stared past Bruce's shoulder at the ceiling.

"Just butt out, will you? I never should have told you about the damn kid to begin with. I shouldn't have trusted--"

Bruce grinned in spite of his aching jaw. "What's this? The Joker second-guessing himself? I don't think that's ever happened before."

The Joker gave him a sideways glare. "_You've_ never happened to me before. Asshole."

Bruce bent forward and kissed him gently. He trailed kisses down his neck and gradually slid off to lie next to him. He held him closely until he felt the fury draining away.

"Please don't worry. It's going to be fine. It will..."

"Well, fuck, if you aren't little Miss Sunshine today--"

"And I'm not going to let you mess this up."

The Joker cast a sly glance at him. "Ok, good for you. Glad we've got that settled. Now, I'm bored--but, I have an idea. Let's play a game."

Bruce frowned. This couldn't be good.

"What game?"

The Joker wriggled out of his arms and sat up. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Bruce's eyes widened.

"They let you have a lighter in here?"

The Joker made a scornful noise. "Well, nooo... But I seem to have one. Cool, huh?" He put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it, taking a long drag and expelling the smoke into the room. "Now, here's the game--let's see who's tougher, you or me. I'll go first."

"What do you mean?"

"Watch." The Joker rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. He then touched the lit end of the cigarette to his forearm. It made a singeing sound and the smell of burnt skin hit Bruce's nose.

"Stop that!" he cried, reaching for the cigarette. The Joker grabbed his wrist and held it away from the ember.

"Ah, ah, ah, your turn. Hold out your arm."

"You're crazy!"

The Joker shook his head in sarcastic amazement. "You're a genius. Look, just do it. Or are you...chicken?" His eyes danced with mischief.

Bruce felt a surge of anger and his competitive streak rose to the surface. "This is the stupidest, most immature--" The Joker made a clucking noise. "Fine." He rolled up his sleeve and stuck out his arm. The Joker grabbed his elbow and said "Say when." He put the glowing ember against Bruce's flesh, and Bruce clenched his jaw in pain. He forced himself to not react for a few seconds then said, "When!"

"Not bad." The Joker pushed his own sleeve higher. "You want to do me?" he asked, accommodatingly offering his arm and the cigarette to Bruce.

Bruce huffed in disgust, but said "Sure." He took the cigarette and held it to where the Joker pointed, in the crook of his elbow. He watched the Joker's face for signs of discomfort, but he never so much as flinched. "When," he said after several seconds. They traded back and forth two more times, extending the torture slightly each time.

It was the Joker's turn. He took off his shirt and pointed to his upper arm. Bruce placed the cigarette. They locked eyes and the Joker grinned as seconds ticked by. He finally glanced at the burn site. "When." A trickle of blood was trailing down his arm from the wound.

Bruce stared in horror. "All right, that's enough!" He stubbed out the cigarette and hastily confiscated the lighter for good measure. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

"I'm just making a point." He spoke quietly. "You can't outlast me. Even if you can stand the pain, you're too full of basic human decency to go the distance. You think you've found something that means something to me, that caring about someone will cure me, but it won't. Ethan's just going to end up getting hurt. It'd be better for everyone if you'd just let me go." The dark eyes bored into Bruce's, and he shook his head.

"No. You're not a monster. You're just getting cold feet." Bruce ran his hand through the Joker's tangled hair, tugging in frustration. "I'm going to help you, and--"

"You're not in control, Bruce. You never were, and you never will be." The Joker closed his eyes, grimacing as if in physical pain. "I almost wish you could be. That you could make me be--different. But, you can't."

He sighed and lay back. Bruce found a tissue and wiped the blood from his arm, then wrapped him in a tight embrace.

"Jack--I thought you were the tough guy."

"Huh?"

"You said you'd try. Well, do it."

"I--"

"Don't tell me you're chicken." Bruce smiled down at him, then made a clucking sound. The Joker stared for a moment then chuckled slightly. He could feel Bruce's heart beating. He smelled good, it was warm in his arms, and he was so damn strong. Why was he here? Why did he stay? A surge of lust heated his groin.

"Ok. Ok, I'll try. Enough of that. Let's fuck."

"I--what?"

"Come on, come on. That's how we solve everything between us, isn't it? Or, are you going to make me seduce you? It's a pain, but I will if I have to."

"You did a good job of seducing me a long time ago," Bruce smiled ruefully. "You don't have to do it again." He leaned in for a kiss and then nipped playfully at the scar on the Joker's lower lip. The Joker made a low growl and sank into Bruce's neck, biting and sucking at him.

They got ready for sex, stripping off clothing, fumbling for lube. Bruce slipped his fingers into his lover, making him arch and writhe against him. The Joker settled into a comfortable position with his legs around Bruce's waist and groaned as Bruce entered him. He thrust in deeply and pulled back slowly, then did it again and again. The Joker grappled at him feverishly, digging fingernails into the flesh of his back. The thrusting became more frantic, more powerful, and the Joker's hand worked his own cock until he spurted onto his belly and chest. Bruce paused to watch, then went back to pumping into him until he felt the blessed release of his own orgasm overtake him, and he cried out with a curse.

Afterwards, the Joker lay with his head on Bruce's chest. And, suddenly, he laughed.

"So, you went to see Beth. What was that like?"

Bruce smiled. "I can see how she caught your attention."

"Mm."

"In fact, if I wasn't spoken for--" he looked down at the Joker--"I am spoken for, aren't I?"

"Huh?"

Bruce sighed. "Never mind. I was just saying, she's very pretty. And, smart. Caring. Remarkable, really."

"Great. Why don't _you _marry her?"

"I've developed other interests, it seems." He squeezed the Joker's ass, making him squirm happily. Then Bruce added, "She said you were a jealous bastard."

"Oh?"

"Uh-huh. She said you went after the mailman with a meat cleaver."

"Aw, she told you that? That was just a big misunderstanding."

"I'm sure."

"Well, I don't even like sharing my toothbrush with anyone, if you know what I mean."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "And, I met Ethan."

The Joker looked up at him, suddenly interested. "You did? What--what did he say?"

"Just hello. But I could see that he's a great kid."

The Joker smiled slightly. "He used to be so serious. The most serious little guy you ever saw. I'd tell him jokes, and he'd just look at me. Then, when he got older, he started trying to tell jokes himself. He'd just string stuff together that made no sense, but he'd use the rhythm--imitating me--and he'd crack himself up, and you couldn't help but laugh."

"I bet he's got it down by now. You better come up with some funny stuff to top him."

"Oh, I've got a million of 'em. Hey, Bruce, what did the bartender say when the neutron tried to pay for a beer?"

Bruce gave him a look. "What?"

"He said, 'For you? No charge.'"

"I think I have to go home now."

"So, one atom says to the other, 'I think I've lost an electron.' 'You sure?' he asks. The first atom says, 'I'm positive.'"

Bruce rolled out of bed and began to dress. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Well, I might be a little rusty. How about a knock-knock joke?"

"No, thanks."

"Ok, here's one for Rachel--I hear they're using lawyers for lab tests. 'Cause there's some things even a rat won't do..."

"Goodbye, Jack."

"Yeah, don't get me started on lawyer jokes--"

"I shouldn't have got you started on _any_ jokes. But, there's one thing I learned from this."

"What's that?"

"You desperately need a little time with someone who can appreciate your humor. As far as I'm concerned, Ethan can't get here fast enough." He finished buttoning his shirt. leaned down and kissed the clown goodbye.

The Joker watched him leave his room, then lay back and shut his eyes. He smiled as memories flooded his mind and he eventually dozed off, remembering what it was like to fall asleep with his son in his arms.


	21. Father and Son Reunion

**A/N: Hello again! Sorry this took so long to update. Hope you like, let me know, you know I love hearing from you!!**

**Seds**

*****

The Joker awoke to the sound of an attendant coming into his room with his breakfast. He turned over, refusing to acknowledge him.

"Morning, Mr. J. Today's the big day, ain't it?"

"Leave me alone."

"What? Now, come on. You need to eat. There's going to be a lot of excitement around here, you're gonna need your strength."

"I'm not hungry."

"Well, I'll just leave it with you. Mr. Wayne's going to be here any minute, he'll make sure you eat."

"Fuck Bruce Wayne."

The attendant started to say something, thought better of it, then turned and left. The Joker got up and paced around the small room until he heard the lock on his door being opened again. A nurse let Bruce in. He was smiling and wearing a nice suit. The Joker was still in briefs and a t-shirt.

"Jack! For heaven's sake, you haven't eaten, or showered--what's the matter with you? Ethan will be here in a couple of hours, and there's paperwork to be done, you have to meet with the director, and your doctors, and--"

"Forget it. I'm not leaving this room."

Bruce sighed. He had been on the phone with the Joker for almost an hour the night before, and he'd felt confident that he had left him in the right frame of mind for today. Apparently, sometime during the night, he'd lost his resolve.

"Come on, Jack." Bruce hugged him, and to his relief, Jack irritably accepted the overture. Bruce tilted his face up and stared into the stormy eyes. "This is supposed to be a happy day. Ethan can't wait to see you."

"You talked to him?"

"Yes, after you and I spoke last night, I called Beth. She put him on the phone and I never heard a kid sound so excited." The look on Jack's face dissolved from grim truculence to an almost-smile.

"Yeah? He knows I'm in the loony bin, right?"

"He knows you're in a hospital, he understands the situation."

"And--he still wants to see me?"

"Damn it, Jack, yes! No matter what else you've done, you apparently were a pretty good dad, which surprises no one more than me, but there you have it. Your son loves you and he never stopped hoping he'd see you again. Now, for God's sake, get ready. He'll be here before you know it."

*****

The Joker was sprawled in a chair across from Dr. Newsome, the director of Arkham, and Bruce was sitting beside him. Jim Gordon and one of his officers were standing by the door, and Rachel was seated next to Bruce.

Dr. Newsome was getting frustrated.

"Joker--do you understand how important this event is, not only to you and your son, but to Arkham? Surely you can see that we can't afford to take any chances."

Gordon took up the discussion. "The director's right, son. You have to be restrained. It's for your own protection, as well as the people around you."

The Joker sat up straight, narrowed his eyes, and pointed a finger at Gordon. "Now, let me get this straight--you're going to dress me up in an orange jumpsuit, lock me up in leg shackles, which are chained to a padlocked leather belt around my waist, which has chains attached to the handcuffs...with an armed guard on either side of me. Who the hell are you protecting me from--a seven-year-old boy?"

"Members of the press will be here. We have to show the outside world that we're taking every precaution to keep everyone involved safe and secure." The director's voice was strained by now.

The Joker shot a disgusted look at Bruce. "Are you hearing this? How the hell is my kid supposed to feel safe when his father's chained up like a maniac?"

"You _are _a maniac," Bruce said dryly. "But, I have to agree, this does sound like overkill. I can understand handcuffs, but leg shackles? And, can't he wear civilian clothes?"

"I'm sorry, Bruce." Gordon bit his lip and gestured for Bruce to meet him out in the hall.

"What is it, Jim?"

"This is one of the requirements Beth's lawyer negotiated. She doesn't want to take any chances on the Joker using Ethan as a hostage in case he decides to escape."

"I see. She really doesn't trust him, does she?"

"Can you blame her?"

Bruce shrugged his agreement. "Will it always have to be this way--assuming there will be other visits?"

"Depends entirely on the clown's behavior today. One wrong move, and he'll lose his legal grounds for visitation. He does understand that, doesn't he?"

"I've told him over and over again, but--I'll talk to him one more time."

When the men returned to the director's office, the Joker was staring resentfully out the window and Rachel was speaking to him in a low tone. The director looked as though the devil had made a house call. Rachel looked up at Bruce with an exasperated expression.

"Jack's not very happy with the stipulations. Maybe you can reason with him," she said.

"Director, could I have a few minutes alone with Jack?" Dr. Newsome frowned, but nodded. They all left the room, leaving only the police officer to act as guard. Bruce sat next to the Joker and trained a steely look on him.

"Come on, Jack--I know this is hard. It may be ridiculous, but it's understandable. A lot's riding on this--Arkham's reputation, your doctor's, Rachel's, mine--we've all gone out on a limb for you, and--"

"And I never asked you for a single goddamn thing."

"I know. But, what does Ethan want? Isn't that the most important thing?"

"He sure as hell doesn't want to see his daddy bound up like a wild animal."

"But, he _does_ want to see you. Once everyone realizes that you can behave, that you can be trusted, it'll get better."

"Yeah, right. Look, fine, I don't give a shit anymore. Let's just get this over with." Bruce put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's going to be ok."

The Joker looked into Bruce's eyes, and beyond the anger, Bruce saw something else. Uncertainty, maybe. Or, fear...

"Bruce--I'm going to try. I really will. But, when they put all of that hardware on me--sometimes, when stuff happens that I don't like, I just kind of--go somewhere else in my head, you know? And, then I just--_do_ things. What if... What if I lose it, huh? What if I just--"

Bruce squeezed his hand. "Maybe you should ask for an extra dose of your medication."

"No! I don't want Ethan to see me all doped up. And anyway--I want to be able to remember seeing him."

Bruce glanced back at the guard, who was studiously keeping his gaze on one of the paintings hung on the wall. He took Jack's face in one hand and lightly ran his fingers over his scarred cheek, then gently kissed him. He didn't really care if the guard saw.

"Jack--I know you can do this."

The Joker held Bruce's gaze, studying him. Finally, he nodded. "Ok. I guess Brucie knows best." He gave a wry smile and stuck his cuffed hands out in front of him. "Bring on the shackles, it's a good look for me."

Bruce smiled and hugged him. He knew that if the Joker were going to pull anything, the director's office would be nothing but a smoldering pile of rubble by now. He could only hope that things would continue to work in their favor for the rest of the day.

*****

The stage was set for the meeting. Normally, family visits took place in a cheery, open room with couches and overstuffed chairs, with toys and books for the kids to play with while their parents awkwardly visited. But, it was decided that one of the old holding cells that actively psychotic patients were kept in while waiting for medication to take effect would be safer. It was a long, sick-yellow cinder block room with a few pieces of institution-like furniture brought in for the occasion.

There were photographers and journalists, all under orders to stay back, clamoring in the hall every time someone came along. The same group that had met in the director's office was there, as well as additional armed guards and Jack's team of doctors.

Beth and Ethan were ushered in by Gordon himself, and Bruce went in to greet them and assure them that things were going well that morning. He showed them to the chairs provided for them, and he smiled at Ethan.

"How are you, champ? Excited to see your dad again after all this time?"

Ethan nodded eagerly. He held a small gift-wrapped package in his hands. "I made him a present," he explained, then glanced at his mother. Beth looked as if she hadn't slept in weeks, but she smiled wanly. "This has been all he could talk about for days. I hope--" She directed a look at Bruce. "I hope this goes well."

"It will. Please don't worry." They chatted awkwardly, and as the minutes ticked by, Bruce began to feel antsy.

At last, a heavy door at the back of the room creaked open. Two armed guards, one on either side of the Joker grasping an arm, brought him in. Bruce stifled a gasp--in the prison uniform, with the chains and shackles binding his wrists and ankles, and with his hair wild, his scars and a malevolent look in his eye, the Joker _did _look crazy.

Once inside, they stopped and the guards dropped their hold on the prisoner and stepped back a few paces. The room was suddenly silent and everyone watched as the clown narrowed his eyes and surveyed the room like a lion picking out his choice of prey. His gaze fell on Ethan and his glare softened. A slow grin crossed his scarred lips and he spoke in a gentle voice that Bruce had never heard before.

"Hey kid--how you doing?"

Beth had a grip on Ethan's arm, but he wrestled away from her and tore across the room to throw his arms around his dad. The Joker knelt down to greet him, but the two guards grabbed him roughly and jerked him upright, and another stepped between the boy and his father at the last minute.

"Let me go, you bastards! Let me go--I just want to hug my kid--let me go!"

"Dad!" Ethan's anguished cry cut through the commotion of the guards attempts to wrestle the Joker out of the room, and Bruce and Gordon quickly came to the Joker's side.

"Let him go," the Commissioner ordered. "He's all right. No one's done anything wrong. Just step aside and let him greet his son. It's ok, it'll be ok."

The guards reluctantly did as directed and the Joker shot them a nasty look as he knelt again, holding his bound hands out as far as the chains would allow. "Come here, son. Please--come here."

Ethan made it to his father in one bound and threw his arms around his neck. The Joker hugged him back as best he could, breathing him in, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

"I missed you, son. I missed you--"

"I missed you, too, Dad! You were gone so long--"

"I know, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't be with you." They pulled back and the crooked smile on Jack's face broke Bruce's heart. He glanced back at Beth. She gave him a worried nod then walked a little closer to the pair.

"Jack--it's been a long time," Beth said. Her voice quavered slightly.

The Joker slowly rose to his feet, keeping a hand on Ethan's shoulder. His lip curled into a snarling smile, and he looked her up and down as though she were naked. Beth wrapped her arms around herself and hastily looked away, thoroughly flustered. Bruce found that he was holding his breath. The Joker's voice had a lascivious lilt to it when he answered.

"Yeah. Unfortunately..."

They stared at each other. Oblivious to the heat being passed between his parents, Ethan said excitedly, "I made you something, Dad!" The Joker released Beth from his torrid appraisal and he turned back to his son with a normal smile. Ethan handed the gift to him, and the guards again stepped forward, and again Gordon held them off. The Joker took the little package and knelt next to his son. He unwrapped a cardboard box, then opened it and took out a small wooden horse. He examined it carefully, noting the detail and care with which it was made. He looked at Ethan admiringly.

"You made this yourself?"

"Uh-huh. Carved it with my Cub Scout knife."

The Joker grinned. "Well, it's a damn fine piece of work. Knives are fun, aren't they? I always liked knives, they--"

"Jack." Bruce gave him a warning look and the Joker looked at him, then nodded.

"Oh, yeah. Well, this is the best present I ever got. Thanks, kid."

Bruce turned to Gordon. "Can't he sit down with the boy?" He nodded and said something to the guards. The Joker was led to the makeshift seating area and allowed to sit next to his son. Beth looked discomfited, but didn't say anything. The Joker now completely ignored her and instead leaned forward and asked Ethan, "So, Cub Scouts, huh? And, soccer? Tae kwon do? You're a busy guy, aren't you?" Ethan quickly began telling him all about his activities and for a while, everyone forgot that the Joker was the Joker, that he'd done terrible things, that he could kill someone with any common household object he happened to find at hand. For a while, he was just a father reunited with his son.

Ethan had a happy, eager expression on his face the whole time, and Bruce could see he was learning his father's face again, looking into his eyes, marveling at the scars, clearly aching to climb into his lap once more, but thinking he was probably too big for that.

The Joker was listening intently, occasionally stroking the boy's unruly blond hair, asking a question now and again. He would nod and smile at the answers, and sometimes he would laugh, and Ethan would laugh, too. Bruce couldn't hear the conversation, but he remembered telling his own dad about his day when the tired physician came home and sat down with him and gave him his full attention. Those were golden memories, and he knew Ethan would always remember the look in his dad's eyes rather than the shackles, the guards and the institutional setting.

After only thirty minutes, the director indicated the time was up. Relieved, Beth stood and went to Ethan, telling him it was time to go. The stricken look on the little boy's face made Bruce feel sad, and everyone was silent as Ethan impulsively crawled into the Joker's lap and hugged him fiercely. "I want you to come home, Dad. When can you come home?" he whispered.

"Oh, buddy. I can't. It'll be a long time before they let me out of here. But, I bet you're going to get to come see me again. That'd be ok, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah--but it's not the same. These people are mean to you, I don't like them."

"Aw, they're all right. This is mostly for show, so that they can tell all their tough guard buddies what a top-notch job they're doing, keeping me in line." He grinned, and brushed the hair from Ethan's eyes. "I've done some bad shi--, uh, stuff. Now I've got to be good, so they'll let me see you again. But, one day, I _will _get out of here. Then, we can see each other all the time. Ok?"

"Ok, Dad." He looked around, then turned back to the Joker. "I just miss you so much."

"Yeah, me too." He frowned as the guards came to take him back to his room. Ethan reluctantly stood up and watched as the Joker was led away. At the exit, the Joker struggled for a moment and Bruce heard him say _"Please." _Uncertainly, the guards allowed him to turn back to face Ethan.

"Hey, kid--you know I didn't _want_ to leave you, right? You do know that?"

Ethan passionately nodded "yes", and the Joker nodded back, and again smiled crookedly as they forced him to turn and head toward the door. He looked over his shoulder and winked at Ethan, who sadly waved goodbye. When the prisoner was gone, everyone else in the room seemed to sag with relief.

Bruce turned to Beth. "Well, that went pretty well." Beth was looking at her son, who was no longer able to hold back tears as he stood staring at the closed door through which his father had been taken away.

"Yes, but what now? Look at him, Bruce. Do you still think this was a good idea?" Beth flashed a bitter look at him before going to her son and giving him a hug. She ushered him toward the exit and Bruce watched them leave.

Rachel came to Bruce's side. "Well, she's not happy. Ethan's not happy. I bet the Joker's not happy, either. Great job, Bruce!"

Bruce frowned at her. "Give me a break! I'm just relieved that we're not all bleeding by now. I have no doubt that this was the right thing to do. The first time was bound to be tough, but it's going to get better. Didn't you see how happy they were to see each other?"

"Sure, but now it's going to be even worse, being reminded of what they've lost."

"I know. I know." Bruce rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. Maybe he _had _just made everything worse.

"I'm going to check on Jack." He started to walk away, then he turned back. "Thanks for everything you did, Rach. I know it was a real challenge."

"Nothing like what you're about to walk into," Rachel said grimly.

"Yeah." Bruce smiled wanly and headed off to find Jack.


	22. Visiting

**A/N: Hope everyone had a great holiday! FYI, I am bringing in a character and some plot lines from the movie "Batman Begins" but this is still AU, so don't count on too much coming from that. Also, we'll jump forward in time a little bit. Sorry to take so long to update! Please review if you like.**

**Seds**

*****

An orderly opened the door to the Joker's room and Bruce went in. He saw the Joker standing before the heavily barred window, one hand providing a cushion for his forehead as he slumped against the frame.

"Jack?"

No response. Bruce went to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He was back in street clothes, wearing a thin cotton shirt, and Bruce could feel bone under the skin. Damn it, Jack, he thought. You need to eat. He ran his hand down the Joker's back, hoping he'd turn to look at him, or say something. Say anything...

Instead, the clown continued to stare out into the asylum courtyard where patients and orderlies were milling about. Bruce followed his gaze and he saw a few children playing; visiting hours were in full swing.

He wondered what the Joker was thinking and he searched the scarred face for a clue as best he could, but it was impassive. He stepped back and went to sit down--he thought it best to give the man some room. He just hoped he would talk to him again, someday. He sat quietly and was almost to the point of dozing off when the Joker's voice suddenly broke the silence.

"He looked good, didn't he?"

Bruce sat upright and smiled slightly. "Yes, he did. He's tall for his age."

"Yeah. Skinny, though."

"Yes."

"Probably runs it all off."

"He's an active little guy."

"Gives his mom hell, I bet."

"Keeps her on her toes."

"Yeah. Good for him." The Joker turned and looked at Bruce. A slow smile crossed his face. "You know, I wouldn't say this to just anyone, but I nearly lost it out there a couple of times."

"You mean--"

"Yeah... I just wanted to grab him, hack my way out and run. And never come back."

Bruce glanced at the floor, then looked up. "So, you'd leave me so easily?" He tried to sound jocular, but the hurt tone came through.

The Joker looked surprised. "Well, I assume you'd come after me. Right?"

Bruce felt slightly better. "Of course. But, I'd have to bring you back."

The Joker walked over to him and knelt in front of him. He tousled Bruce's hair. "I wouldn't let you. I'd capture you and keep you prisoner until you saw my side of things, then the three of us'd live happily ever after."

"I see. Sounds like a fairy tale."

"Heh heh, you calling me a fairy?"

"No more than usual."

They looked at each other for a long moment, then Bruce leaned forward and kissed him as he pulled him into his arms. Jack clung to him for a moment then pulled back and rose to his feet. He pointed at Bruce meaningfully.

"You, uh--you did a good thing, Bruce."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I--I owe you one. I owe you."

Bruce stood up and slipped his arms around him.

"Would you like to know what you can do to repay me?" he asked, brushing Jack's forehead with his lips.

"Blow job?"

"No--although, now that you mention it--wait, no, no. What I was going to say was, you can repay me by sticking with the original plan. Follow doctor's orders, take your meds, go to therapy. Get well so you can leave this place. That's what I want--and that's all that I want. At least, as far as gratitude is concerned."

The Joker sighed, but gave Bruce a rather sweet grin. "Ok, fair enough. You've got a deal. As long as I keep getting to see my kid."

"You will. Everyone was pleased with the way things went, with the possible exception of your ex-wife."

"Oh? She had a complaint?"

"I don't think she appreciated being looked at like a steak dinner you were about to devour."

"She shouldn't be such a bitch. I know she's the one who insisted on all the hardware."

"She's doing the best she can for her son, Jack. You can't blame her for that."

"She'll take any opportunity to give me a little shit. But--I guess I can't really blame her for that either." Jack suddenly looked tired. "Listen, big guy, I think I need some shut-eye. Why don't you come back later and we'll, uh, celebrate? In a way I know you're damned fond of, hmm?" He licked his lips and ran his hands over Bruce's chest and down to his butt, where he squeezed mischievously.

Bruce smiled, suddenly feeling on top of the world. Things were going to be ok. He nodded and gave Jack one more hug and kiss.

"Ok. I'm proud of you, you know."

"Yeah? I'm being a good little psycho?"

"Yes. Very good. I'll see you later."

Bruce gave a wave in farewell and headed out to get some work done.

*****

_Two and a half years later..._

Dr. Jonathan Crane peered over the top of his glasses at the article in the latest edition of his favorite psychiatric journal and humph'd bitterly. It was disgusting. It was frustrating. It was absolutely absurd. To think that, after all his brilliant research and experimentation with the effects of chemical agents on psychosis and schizophrenia, some nobody of a German doctor with Bruce Wayne's money behind him could swoop in and grab all of Arkham's attention--and funding--for his lousy program. Just because the damn Joker was finally capable of acting like a normal human being for a whole three-quarters of an hour around his boy a few times a month. Just because he'd been behaving himself for a couple of years, he was now considered to be in a state of "recovery."

Dr. Crane snorted.

It was inconceivable that, in spite of all his work, he would still be completely ignored.

Yet, here he was, still a low-level resident with shift assignments, making the rounds, expected to do little more than run a few group therapy sessions and write up reports for barely enough pay to keep himself in a decent apartment with a late model car.

It made Falcone's offer sound positively exquisite.

He wasn't sure how the mob boss got wind of it, but one of his little experiments had produced a most unexpected result. Instead of combating the delusions and hallucinations some psychopathic patients suffered, it had intensified them, creating a state of such psychological distress that the subjects had actually regressed in their treatment. Crane had intended to destroy the product as being too dangerous, but before he got around to it, one of the head psychiatrists had asked him what he thought the agent would do to a sane person.

It was an interesting question, and one that made him keep the product around, just in case he ever was in a position to actually test it. Then, Falcone came to him with a proposition. Administer the agent to one of his men, and see if he could convince the authorities of his impaired mental state, thus assuring he would be sent to Arkham rather than the penitentiary.

It was undoubtedly illegal, and certainly unwise, but Falcone offered quite a bit of money, and after all, it was in the name of scientific research. It was a way to accomplish something he could never do under normal circumstances, and after all, was there ever any gain without risk? So, in spite of his better judgment, he'd given his cooperation.

And, the results had been most interesting. On a normal individual, the toxin seemed to give one's worst fears life, creating a state of psychosis that mimicked the real thing. Now, Falcone wanted to use it again, basically on a regular basis. Crane wasn't sure what Falcone's plans were, but it was something that required little of Crane in exchange for making him a rich man.

Assuming he didn't get caught.

But, it would never bring him the recognition he deserved for his legitimate work. He would never be the subject of a glowing article in a medical journal, nor would a new wing of the asylum bear his name, and he'd certainly never become the director of his own psychiatric hospital as a result of his accidental discovery.

No. The only way to bring the spotlight back on himself was to discredit the man responsible for the Joker's near-miraculous recovery.

He had to make the Joker crazy again.

Dr. Crane smiled to himself.

Judging by the man's case file, that wouldn't be too hard.

*****

Jack was holding a baseball. Ethan had a glove and was poised, ready. Jack pulled back his arm and threw it; it landed right in Ethan's glove.

"I caught it, Dad!" he called, happily holding the ball in the air.

"You sure did, slugger. See? That mitt's just your size, I told you you'd get the hang of it."

Bruce was sitting on the sidelines in the visitor's courtyard, and he grinned. He'd bought the mitt with Jack's explicit instructions and sent it to Ethan a few weeks ago, but the boy had had trouble using it. Now, with his dad's tutoring, he was gaining enough confidence to join the school team. Bruce shook his head. He'd never have thought the Joker had an athletic streak in him, but he seemed to have an intuitive knowledge about baseball.

Beth sat next to Bruce and watched the proceedings with her usual slightly disapproving air, but broke into a smile as Ethan's excitement rose. "He's good with him, isn't he?" she asked softly.

"Yes. I'm--amazed, to say the least."

"He was always a good dad. When he was, you know, sane."

"I think he's doing well."

"I know. I just... There are some things a person can't forget, Bruce."

"I understand. But the doctors are sure he's close to full recovery."

"And, that scares me half to death."

Bruce nodded. They were getting close to the point where Jack might be allowed a home visit soon. He knew Beth was desperately afraid that any amount of freedom might bring the Joker back full force.

Bruce spoke gently. "But--if he's truly recovered, he won't be a danger. Isn't that true?"

_"If _he's truly recovered." Beth turned and faced Bruce. "You know as well as I do that Jack's a con artist from the word 'go'. I find it hard to believe he's really as well as he seems. He's awfully good at telling people what they want to hear."

Bruce shook his head. "I know you don't trust him. But, I believe he really wants a normal life. He has so much to look forward to, having his son in his life again. He's motivated to do what the doctors are telling him so he can have that."

"That--and a life with you," Beth said with some amusement.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yes."

"One thing I never thought Jack capable of was being gay."

Bruce sighed. _That _conversation had been lots of fun. The three of them had had some heated words and Beth had accused Bruce of meddling in her business. It had been weirdly heartwarming to hear Jack state to his ex-wife, "Hey--you can talk any way you want to me, but don't be such a bitch to my boyfriend!" Beth's eyes had widened and her mouth dropped, and she had finally looked at Bruce and said, "Oh! It all makes sense now..." Bruce had blushed and stammered and finally told her the whole story of his and Jack's relationship, leaving out the part about being Batman. That had been several months ago, and Beth still seemed to get a kick out of it.

"He's very--complicated," Bruce explained.

"So are you, I suspect," Beth said with a grin. Bruce was relieved to see the ball game had come to an end.

"Jeeze, I give up." Jack strolled over to the pair with his arm around his son's shoulders. "This kid's going to be the death of me. Doesn't he have an 'off' switch?" Jack collapsed onto the ground and Ethan threw his arms around his neck, giggling.

"You're a good ball player, Dad."

"Yeah, too bad they don't let me play with--bats," he said, grinning.

Bruce smirked at their private joke, and Beth stood up. "Well, I guess it's time we got going. Tell Dad goodbye, son."

"Oh, not yet! Can't we stay a little longer?"

Jack gave Ethan a crushing hug. "Sorry, kid, they're real strict about visiting hours. You don't want Dad to get a frowny-face sticker, do you?"

"No, I guess not," Ethan said, laughing as he struggled futilely to escape. He ended up just returning the hug and was immediately set free, only to be pulled back for a kiss on the head. Jack whispered something in his ear and the boy nodded solemnly and whispered something back. He and his mother then gathered their things and an orderly came to escort them out of the courtyard.

Jack stood up and watched Ethan leave, waving goodbye when his son turned for one more look. This moment always gave Bruce a catch in his throat and he gave Jack a moment before patting him on the back.

"It's almost dinner time. Let's get washed up, you look like you've been playing catcher for the Mets."

Jack didn't answer; he usually didn't talk for some time after his son's departure. They headed back to Jack's room where he could lie on the bed with Bruce's arms around him for a little while before dinner. That always seemed to help, Bruce thought gratefully. But, then the time would come when he, himself, would have to leave for the night and Jack would have to face that long stretch of darkness alone.

He wondered how he got through it, and he looked forward to the day when he and Jack could fall asleep together once again.


	23. Dr Jonathan Crane

**A/N: Oh, holy cats. It's been ages... But, I've never forgotten this story-I just ran into a case of killer writer's block, then got busy with another fandom (will the Joker be angry that I've been cheating on him? Gaak!) Anyway, all apologies, hope there are a few of you still interested. Thank you to the lovely h0use-m0use for inspiration and encouragement. This will be nearing the end-maybe two more chapters coming up. Again, sorry for disappearing... Please review! **

**Seds**

* * *

"What's this all about?" Batman's rasp cut through the hubbub of the late-night shouts and sirens. Jim Gordon shielded his eyes from the flashing fire engine lights, looked at the vigilante, and frowned.

"What do you mean? It's fairly straightforward. Another one of Falcone's goons went off the deep end."

"It's the third time this has happened. Once was strange. The second time was suspicious. This-this is insane."

Gordon raised an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?"

"Need to do a little digging."

Gordon pulled off his soot-flecked glasses and cleaned them with the sweat-soaked tail of his shirt. "And, how, exactly, do you intend to-" He looked up. He sighed.

Batman was gone.

* * *

_A week later..._

Bruce Wayne was in his study with Alfred. They were both staring at a TV screen, incredibly bored expressions on their faces.

"What is it I'm supposed to be looking for again, sir?" Alfred asked.

"I honestly don't know. Something. Anything unusual."

Alfred hmph'd. "We're watching the ingress and egress to that Falcone fellow's hideout. I would think _everything _would be unusual."

"Unusual in mobster terms, I mean," Bruce clarified.

Alfred was quiet for several minutes, intently watching... nothing. They'd been at it for what seemed like forever, with the footage running at eight times normal speed. They'd gone through two 24-hour periods and were working on the third. Alfred was feeling the beginnings of a headache pricking him behind his eyes. He cleared his throat and stood up.

"Well, sir, this is absolutely fascinating, but there are dishes to be seen to, silver to be polished-"

"Sit down. I need a second pair of eyes, I might miss something."

Alfred sighed, but did as he was told. The seconds ticked on; a moment of excitement came when a pizza delivery car showed up, and Bruce slowed the footage to normal. But, unless there was something unseemly going on with three boxes of large pizzas, it appeared to be a normal transaction.

The men settled back and watched for another thirty long minutes. Alfred was at the point of being certain that it was, indeed, possible to expire from boredom, when a black car appeared on the screen. It pulled up to the rear entrance of the hideout, and Bruce adjusted the video speed back to normal.

A man stepped out, and Bruce sat up straighter. Alfred felt a surge of hope.

"Do you recognize him, sir?"

"Yes-I've seen him before. Not sure where... Wait a minute." Bruce was tensed in concentration. He ran the video back and paused at the exact second where the man got out of his vehicle, the one opportunity he offered the camera to capture his face. Bruce expanded the image, and stared intently for a long moment, then whispered, "Crane."

"Crane, sir?"

"From Arkham. I was introduced to him one day while meeting with Jack's doctor. Didn't think much of him-he seemed like an overly-ambitious, pompous little pipsqueak. What the hell could he be doing at Falcone's place?"

Alfred gave Bruce a knowing look. "I have a feeling you won't rest until you find out."

* * *

_Three months earlier..._

Dr. Crane was frustrated. He'd wangled a meeting with Dr. Schwartz, the Joker's head psychiatrist, and it was not going well.

"I simply wish to be put on his case rotation, Dr. Schwartz." Crane did his best to contain his irritation, but his voice was strained and his words were clipped. "I know I could learn so much from observing your techniques."

"I'm afraid that will not be possible," the older man replied in his thick German accent. Dr. Schwartz was a man of great intelligence, and he had little respect for Dr. Crane. He considered him to be a man with more ambition than substance, full of conniving schemes that would place him in a good light rather than produce solid, long-term results. There was no way he would allow Crane anywhere near any of his patients, especially someone on such a complex and experimental course of treatment as the Joker.

"But-"

"Good day, Dr. Crane. If you are really interested in studying my techniques, I would recommend that you read a few of my case studies. I'll have my secretary provide them for you... on your way out." The white-haired doctor nodded his dismissal, and turned back to his computer. Crane was left with nothing to do but to get up and leave.

* * *

_Back to the present..._

It was late in the evening, well past visiting hours, but that was of no concern to Bruce. The Arkham staff had long ago become accustomed to his comings and goings, and they now simply treated him as they would a consulting physician or psychiatrist with full access credentials.

Which was handy, sometimes. But, most of the time, Bruce only wanted access to Jack.

Like now. He lay on top of him, powerfully thrusting in and out of the lithe body beneath him; Jack was furiously, erratically, meeting each deep stroke with a powerful thrust of his own, scraping long nails into the soft flesh on Bruce's back, making low, throaty noises punctuated with giggles as Bruce brought him closer and closer to orgasm. The hospital bed creaked and shuddered, the iron headboard banged away against the wall. "Damn it, Wayne-move!" he choked after a close call ebbed away.

Bruce rasped, "I am!"

"Harder!"

"Jack, I'm afraid I'll hurt you." Bruce had once hoped that the day would come when they would be able to enjoy making love without either of them walking away bruised or bloody, but...

"Fuck, so what?" Jack wriggled aggressively. "Like a little pain..." he muttered irritably.

Bruce sighed, but he redoubled his efforts and was happy to hear Jack grunt in release after only a few more minutes. Bruce then managed to attend to his own needs, filled the condom, and pulled out. He rolled over onto his back, panting. Jack stretched contentedly, threw a skinny leg possessively over Bruce's, and groaned. "That... was some kind of wonderful, big guy. Once you finally got going."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. What the hell's the matter with you, I thought I had you trained."

"Apparently, I need a few more lessons."

"Well, happy to oblige. I have some pretty intense homework I could assign you..."

Bruce chuckled, then disengaged himself from his lover's leg and sat up. Jack fixed him with a glare.

"Going somewhere?"

"No, actually-I wanted to talk to you."

"Talk?" Jack snorted. "I got my jollies, now I want to go to sleep. What the hell do you want to talk about?"

"Jonathan Crane."

Jack's cranky protests halted; he sat up as well and looked at Bruce with interest.

"Crane? What about him?"

"You know him?"

Jack laughed. "He's been sniffing around. I caught him sneaking peeks into my case file while Doc Schwartz was busy asking me how my psychosis was going. Why? You got a hard-on for him or something?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "No. But, I believe he's involved with Falcone, somehow. There's something odd going on with those men who've been admitted lately-they all present with the same symptoms, and they're all known Falcone associates. I-well, Batman-set up a surveillance system on their hideout, and Crane was spotted going in and staying a while. A few hours later, another one of the 'family' went psychotic and was admitted here. Have you heard anything?"

Jack scratched at one of his scars and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "No. Those guys were so wrecked when they came in, they just threw them in the deep freeze and left 'em there. You want me to... make some discrete inquiries?" He gave Bruce a merry grin, and Bruce grinned back.

"'Discrete' being the key word. Don't call undue attention to yourself; sorry, I know that's a challenge for you."

"I love a challenge. Don't worry, I can do subtle. I'll see what I can... dig up. Since you're asking so nicely."

"Thanks." Bruce tugged him into an embrace and kissed him. "Nice to have somebody on the inside."

"Well, I'm not normally a snitch, but that Crane's a piece of work." A look of distaste crossed Jack's face. "I kind of hate him."

Bruce frowned. "Just see if you can connect him to Falcone, please. No going off on creative tangents."

"Mmm, whatever." Jack pushed Bruce back onto the mattress, snuggled against his muscular chest and was soon asleep. Bruce waited until he was deeply under before extricating himself, getting dressed, and slipping out. He thought he might go on a little information recon, himself. He'd see what he could find, then come back and say a proper goodnight to the clown-or face his wrath, later.

Bruce chuckled ruefully.

Sometimes, Jack's wrath was awfully close to incredible sex.

* * *

_Later that same night..._

Since he'd been unable to gain access to the Joker through legitimate means, Crane had decided to take a different approach. He'd attempted to throw his weight around with the Joker's key-holding attendants; infuriatingly, they had just laughed at him.

Then, he'd tried bribery.

To his disgust and amazement, not one would go for his offer. He wasn't sure if the Joker's fame had them so cowed that they dared not risk any sort of slip-up in his care, or if the wretched clown had somehow managed to magically enchant the team to the point that they were determined to shield him from unauthorized interference, but...

Either way, it was humiliating.

After all, he was smarter than they were. So, Crane did the next logical thing-late one night, he stole an attendant's overalls and keys, and made his way up to the Joker's floor. He darted around the nurses' station at the entry and snuck down the hallway to the Joker's room. He let himself in as quietly as possible, and closed the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

He could make out the shape on the bed that was the Joker and smiled to himself. He took a hypodermic needle out of his pocket and slunk over to the unmoving figure. The room was illuminated only by the security lights shining in from outside the window, but he could tell the Joker was sleeping on his back with his face turned toward the window. He made his way around to the other side of the bed and removed the needle's cover. He held it up to the light, checking the dosage-he liked to have things exact (after all, this _was_ research, technically)-but, just as he was about to reach for Jack's arm, a strong hand shot out from under the covers, grabbed his wrist, and yanked him downward.

The doctor cried out as something hard and bony connected with his jaw. He saw stars and dropped even lower, until he was on his hands and knees on the floor. The needle rolled under the bed. Jack slid out from under the covers and turned on a light. He knelt down, jerked Crane's head backward by the hair and peered into his face.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"You-you're going to be in a lot of trouble, attacking an orderly-"

Exaggeratedly, Jack took a good look at the man's face and raised an eyebrow in delighted amusement. "Hey, pal-I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid. Or, forgetful."

Jack twisted Crane's arm behind his back, causing him to cry out again. He was in enough pain that he didn't even protest when Jack dug his wallet out of his pocket. Jack then forced him face down onto the floor and restrained him with a foot on the back of his neck as he extricated an ID card and examined it. He bent down to show it to his struggling captive, who was beginning to wheeze in panic.

"Ah, see there? I thought you looked familiar. According to this, you're Dr. Jonathan Crane, M.D." The Joker proceeded to sit down and straddle the man's back as he reflected thoughtfully. "Hm, sounds like you're a bit overqualified to be an orderly. And, I've never had an orderly try to administer medication before. Sooo... I only have one question. What's in your little syringe, Doc?" Jack reached under the bed and retrieved the needle, then held it in front of Crane's face, waggling it teasingly.

It occurred to Crane that he was in a dire situation. After the mayhem the Joker had been responsible for in the past, sticking a doctor with his own poison-filled needle wouldn't faze him. And, never having personally sampled the product, Crane couldn't be sure that he'd be coherent enough-ever-to get access to the antidote he'd made. He blinked past the pain in his jaw to turn his head and try to catch the Joker's eye.

"Please-let me go."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "But, you didn't answer my question. So here's another. You're doing business with Falcone. Why?"

"I'm not! I wouldn't-why would I do business with a criminal?"

Jack scrunched up his nose. "You know, I hate liars. Falcone's little playmates have been streaming in here for weeks, their brains scrambled but good." Jack looked at the syringe. "Why do I think whatever potion you've got here has something to do with that?" Jack's disquietingly good-natured tone suddenly shifted to a menacing growl. "You came here to fuck me up, didn't you, Doc? Why? What'd I ever do to you?"

"Nothing! I didn't! I was just-"

"Sh-sh-sh." Jack hauled the smaller man to his feet, giving his arm another twist. Crane whimpered pathetically. Jack shoved him face down onto the bed and rested his weight on Crane's ass. "Now, I've got a couple of options for you, Doc. Multiple choice. Which would you prefer? A. I can pump this concoction into your bloodstream, and see you 'round the good ole supervised recreation room every day after lunch with the rest of the wackos, or, B. I can _fuck_ you-" Jack made a show of thrusting his hips against the doctor's vulnerable backside-"like the little punk that you are, or, C., you can tell me what the hell you're up to. The truth. _All of it. _Now, what'll it be?"

"I'm not doing anything! Nothing! I swear to you-please! Please, just let me go!"

"Were you not paying attention? That is not one of the options!" Jack frowned disapprovingly, then bent lower to whisper in Crane's ear. "Okay, I'll choose for you. Since I don't happen to have a condom handy, and I doubt you're exactly _picky_ about your mating habits, we'll go with 'dose of whatever's in the syringe' for our prize today." Jack gripped Crane's arm and raised the needle into position. "Hope you at least get a little buzz off this stuff, huh?" He started to plunge it into the man's flesh, but Crane squeaked, "No! I'll talk! I'll talk!"

"Yeah? Well-all right." Jack moved the needle so that it rested against Crane's neck. "Go ahead."

"Uh... Well, I developed a... serum, that was supposed to reduce the effects of psychosis on mental patients. But, I made a mistake-and it had the opposite effect. And, on normal people, it actually creates the condition!" Crane's voice actually sounded excited, in spite of his situation.

Jack frowned. "So-you're making Falcone's goons crazy? Why?"

"When Falcone gets convicted of his crimes-and, he will-he'll have himself injected with the serum, and get admitted to Arkham. But, he'll have an army in here with him-then, I'll administer the antidote to them all, and he'll be able to take over the place. That's his plan."

Jack leaned in closer. "So-why Arkham? What's the point of being in here? He could break out of the joint with a lot less trouble."

Crane's rapid breathing increased even more as he thought of yet another of his humiliations the Joker was responsible for. He didn't answer at first; then, he felt the point of the needle being teasingly pressed against his jugular vein. "He wants you!" he blurted out.

"Me?"

"Yes... he considers you... valuable. He wants you on his team. Thinks that with your 'expertise,' he'll be... unstoppable." Crane's bitterness bled through his fear.

Jack chuckled. "But-I'm being a good boy, nowadays."

"Yes. He knows that."

"So-you were going to send me back to la-la land?"

Crane huffed disgustedly. He hated having the credit for his devious plan diverted to Falcone, but he had a feeling that telling the Joker the real reason he'd intended to inject him with his psychotropic agent would not be met with good cheer.

"It wasn't my idea! Falcone forced me to do it!"

"That why you've been getting so chummy with Doc Schwartz?"

"Uh-"

"You've been trying to take a crack at me for a long time, way before you hooked up with Falcone." Jack leaned closer, so that his lips were almost touching Crane's ear. "I think you're lying to me again."

"No! No, I swear, I had no choice! I-"

"Yeah. Well, it doesn't really matter." Jack suddenly stood up and back, releasing the doctor. He sprang to his feet, his only thought being to make it to the door. He had just maneuvered himself to step around the end of the bed, when Jack stuck his foot out. Crane tripped and fell to the floor; Jack knelt, jammed the needle into Crane's neck and squeezed the plunger, releasing the contents of the syringe into the doctor's blood stream.

"You were going to keep me from seeing my kid, weren't you, Doc? That's... a little hard to stomach, even for me." Jack gracefully rose to his feet, dropped the syringe, then plumped his pillows, settled back on his bed, and watched as Crane's muscles contorted.

"No," gasped Crane. "Oh, God, no, no, no..." He raised himself and turned to stare back at the implacable face of... a horrific vision of a clown.

It was the screaming that brought the orderlies running.


End file.
